ENDERFOOT 


BRIDE 


Clarice  ERjchards 


J 


X7 


A  Tenderfoot  Bride 


A  Tenderfoot  Bride 


TALES  FROM  AN  OLD  RANCH 


BY 

Clarice  E.  Richards 


NEW  YORK  CHICAGO 

Fleming  H.  Revell  Company 

LONDON    AND    EDINBURGH 


Copyright,  1920,  by 
FLEMING  H.  REVELL  COMPANY 


Printed  in  th«  Unitad  States  of  America 


New  York:  158  Fifth  Avenue 
Chicago:  17  North  Wabash  Ave. 
London:  21  Paternoster  Square 
Edinburgh:  75  Princes  Street 


To  the  One 

whose  Companionship,  Inspiration  and 

Encouragement  have  made 

this  book  possible 

My  Husband 


MG81937 


CONTENTS 

I.  FIRST  IMPRESSIONS 11 

IL  A  SURPRISE  PARTY 24 

III.  THE  ROOT  CELLAR 41 

IV.  THE  GREAT  ADVENTURE  PROGRESSES  .    .  67 

V.  THE  GOVERNMENT  CONTRACT    ....  71 

VI.  A  VARIETY  OP  RUNAWAYS 87 

VII.  THE  MEASURE  OP  A  MAN 99 

VIII.  THE  SHEEP  BUSINESS 118 

IX.  THE  UNEXPECTED 134 

X.  AROUND  THE  CHRISTMAS  FIRE  ....  154 
XL  TED 172 

XII.  BLIZZARDS 191 

XIII.  ECHOES  OP  THE  PAST  .  211 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Facing 
Page 


PIKE'S  PEAK  FROM  THE  OLD  RANCH  ....  Title 

ROPING  AND  GUTTING  OUT  CATTLE    ....  24 

ROPING  A  STEER  TO  INSPECT  BRAND    ....  52 

INSPECTING  A  BRAND 74 

THE    "STAR"  is    A    FRIGHTENED,    SNORTING 

"BRONCHO" 96 

TRAILED  ALL  THE  WAY  FROM  NEW  MEXICO    .  122 

LIKE  A  SOLITARY  FENCE  POST 122 

BUCKING  HORSE  AND  RIDER 154 

PACING  DEATH  EACH  TIME  THEY  RIDE  A  NEW 

HORSE  t    ,    ,    ,  188 


I 

FIRST  IMPRESSIONS 

WHEN     our     train     left     Colorado 
Springs  and  headed  out  into  those 
vast  stretches  of  the  prairie,  which 
spread  East  like  a  great  green  ocean  from 
the  foot  of  Pike's  Peak,  all  the  sensations  of 
Christopher  Columbus  setting  sail  for  a  new 
world,  and  a  few  peculiarly  my  own,  mingled 
in  my  breast. 

As  the  train  pounded  along  I  stole  a  look 
at  Owen.  He  was  absorbed  in  the  contem 
plation  of  a  map  of  our  new  holdings.  Under 
that  calm  exterior  I  suspected  hidden  attri 
butes  of  the  primitive  man.  Certainly  there 
was  some  reason  why  Western  life  was  to 
his  liking,  having  had  the  chance  to  choose. 
It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  we  found 
ourselves  on  the  platform  of  the  solitary 
little  wayside  station.  The  train  went  rush 
ing  on  through  the  July  sunshine,  as  if  impa- 
11 


12  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

tient  at  the  stop.  Our  fellow  passengers  had 
drawn  their  heads  back  from  the  car  win 
dows,  after  vainly  trying  to  see  what  appar 
ently  sane  people  could  find  to  stop  for  in  a 
place  like  that.  In  truth,  there  was  little — a 
water  tank,  a  section  house,  two  cottages 
and  one  store. 

A  combination  station-agent  and  baggage 
man  stood  on  the  platform.  Near  a  hitch 
ing  rack  a  tall  individual  was  waving  his 
long  arms  about  like  a  windmill  as  he  beck 
oned  us  to  approach.  Owen  picked  up  the 
bags;  I  trudged  along  behind  with  various 
coats  and  packages,  stopping  midway  be 
tween  platform  and  wagon  to  disengage  a 
large  tumbleweed,  which  had  rolled  merrily 
to  my  feet  and  attached  itself  to  my  skirt. 

The  tall  man  took  a  few  steps  in  our  direc 
tion,  still  holding  the  reins  in  his  hand.  With 
one  eye  he  gave  us  a  greeting,  while  he  kept 
the  other  on  the  lunging  horses.  He  was 
hardly  a  prepossessing  person  at  first  sight, 
except  for  his  smile.  I  felt  that  his  keen 
black  eyes  had  sized  us  up  in  one  quick 
glance.  I  became  blushingly  conscious  of 


FIRST  IMPRESSIONS  13 

being  a  new  bride,  and  from  "the  East." 
"How-de-do?  Whoa,  now,  Brownie.  Just 
get  in  folks, — the  old  man  had  to  go  to  town, 
so  he  sent  me  to  meet  you,  but  he'll  be  back 
by  the  time  we  get  to  the  ranch."  All  this 
in  one  breath,  while  he  helped  Owen  place 
the  bags  in  the  wagon. 

"Don't  mind  the  horses;  they're  plumb 
gentle — just  a  little  ex-cited  now  over  the 
train,  that's  all.  Whoa  now,"  with  decided 
emphasis.  "Sorry,  Mrs.  Brook,  hope  you 
didn't  hurt  yourself" — this  last  as  the  horses 
suddenly  backed  and  knocked  my  foot  off 
the  step.  "Oh,  no,  not  at  all,"  I  replied, 
hastily  scrambling  into  the  wagon  and  thank 
ing  heaven  that  I  had  landed  on  the  seat 
before  they  gave  an  unexpected  lurch  for 
ward.  Owen  got  in  beside  the  driver;  the 
horses  reared  and  started  off.  I  gripped  the 
seat  and  my  hat,  and  fastened  my  eyes  on 
the  horses'  ears.  When  we  had  crossed  the 
railroad  and  the  movement  was  more  steady, 
I  began  to  "take  notice"  of  things  about  me, 
and  the  conversation  going  on  in  the  front 
seat  reached  me  in  fragments. 


14  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

The  driver  said  he  was  called  "Tex."  He 
was  a  true  son  of  Texas,  and  it  was  not  diffi 
cult  to  imagine  that  particles  of  his  native 
soil  still  clung  to  him.  The  deep  creases  in 
his  neck  were  so  filled  with  dirt  that  he 
looked  like  a  charcoal  sketch.  As  he  turned 
his  face,  lined  and  seamed,  I  saw  that  his 
chin  was  covered  with  at  least  a  week's 
growth  of  greyish-black  beard.  I  estimated 
his  age.  He  might  have  been  fifty;  very 
quick  in  speech  and  action,  yet  there  was  a 
subdued  power  about  the  man.  He  managed 
the  horses  easily,  and  I  caught  in  his  drawl 
ing  speech  a  casual,  half -bantering  tone. 

"Wonder  if  them  grips  is  botherin'  the 
Missus.  Ridin'  all  right?"  he  asked,  turning 
with  solicitude  to  see  the  location  of  the 
bags.  As  it  happened,  they  were  all  located 
on  top  of  my  feet.  It  was  Owen  who  re 
moved  them,  for  Tex's  attention  was  again 
engaged  with  Brownie,  who  suddenly  landed 
quite  outside  the  road.  A  cotton-tail  had 
jumped  from  behind  a  rattteweed. 

"Quit  that  now,  Brownie.  You  never  did 
have  no  sense."  The  drawl  was  half- 


FIRST  IMPRESSIONS  15 

sarcastic.  "  Tears  like  you  ain't  never  seen 
no  rabbits  before,  'stead  a  bein*  raised  with 
'em."  Brownie  gave  a  little  shake  of  her 
pretty  head  and  crowded  her  long-suffering 
mate  back  into  the  road  again.  I  was  be 
coming  very  much  interested.  This  man 
was  a  distinctly  new  type  to  me.  I  did  not 
know  then  that  he  was  the  old-time  cow- 
puncher,  with  an  ease  of  manner  a  Chester 
field  might  have  envied,  and  an  unfailing, 
almost  deferential,  courtesy  toward  women. 
Never  shall  I  forget  that  first  drive  across 
the  prairie, — not  a  house,  not  a  tree  in  sight, 
except  where  the  cottonwoods  traced  the 
borders  of  a  waterless  creek.  Gently  rolling 
hills  were  all  about  us,  instead  of  the  flat 
country  I  had  expected  to  see;  hills  which 
failed  to  reveal  anything  when  we  reached 
the  top,  but  yet  higher  hills  to  climb.  An 
unexpected  vastness  seemed  to  extend  to  the 
very  boundaries  of  the  unknown,  as  we 
looked  about  on  all  sides,  only  to  see  the  soft 
green  circle  of  the  hills,  on  which  the  bluest 
of  skies  gently  rested,  sweep  about  us.  I 
felt  the  spell  of  unlimited  space,  and  smiled 


16  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

as  I  thought  of  the  tearful  farewell  of  one  of 
my  bridesmaids.  She  had  "hated"  to  think  of 
my  being  "cooped  up  on  a  ranch."  "Cooped 
up"  here,  when  for  the  first  time  I  realized 
what  unhampered  freedom  might  mean  in  a 
country  left  as  God  had  made  it,  with  so 
little  trace  of  man's  interference! 

At  last  we  came  to  a  gate  made  of  three 
strands  of  barbed  wire,  fastened  together  in 
the  middle  and  attached  to  a  stick  at  each 
end.  It  was  a  real  gate  when  up,  but  when 
opened,  it  was  a  floppy  invention  of  the  Evil 
One,  designed  to  tax  the  patience  of  a  saint. 
The  strands  of  wire  got  mixed  and  crossed 
and  grew  perceptibly  shorter,  so  that  it  re 
quired  superhuman  strength  and  something 
of  a  disposition  to  get  the  end  of  the  stick 
through  the  loop  of  wire,  which  held  it  in 
place  again. 

This  gate  marked  the  Southern  boundary 
of  the  ranch,  ten  miles  from  the  railroad 
station.  We  reached  the  top  of  a  hill  and 
looked  up  a  long  valley,  where  the  creek 
wound  its  way,  fringed  by  great  cottonwood 
trees,  until  its  source  was  lost  behind  three 


FIRST  IMPRESSIONS  17 

prominent  buttes,  purple  in  the  haze  of  the 
late  afternoon.  Beyond  the  buttes  stood 
Pike's  Peak,  snow-capped  and  alone,  guardian 
of  the  valley,  the  whole  length  of  which  it 
commanded.  Through  some  peculiarity  of 
position  all  the  other  peaks  of  the  Rockiee 
remained  invisible,  while  this  one  mountain 
rose  in  majestic  isolation  from  the  plain. 

Tex  stopped  the  horses  for  a  moment,  and 
without  a  word  pointed  with  the  whip  toward 
a  clump  of  cottonwoods  in  the  distance. 

"The  ranch?"  I  asked. 

He  nodded. 

In  the  beautiful  valley  it  stood,  the  white 
fences,  corrals  and  outbuildings  gleaming  in 
the  sun.  Nestled  among  the  trees,  planted 
so  densely  that  only  a  suggestion  of  its 
white  walls  showed  between  them,  was  the 
house — our  first  home ! 

As  we  drove  up  to  the  gate,  a  short  man, 
with  a  thick  beard,  bustled  out  to  meet  us. 

"Well,  here  you  are!  Got  here  all  right. 
Sorry  I  couldn't  meet  you.  Come  right  in. 
You  must  be  tired  settin'."  And  before  we 
quite  realized  that  we  had  arrived,  we  were 


18  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

ushered  into  the  house  through  the  back 
door. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  there  was  no  front 
door.  Two  outside  doors  opened  into  the 
kitchen,  one  on  either  side,  and  since  the 
kitchen  was  in  truth  the  "living-room," 
what  need  of  a  front  door? 

A  placid-faced,  elderly  woman  greeted  us, 
and  after  a  few  moments  conducted  us  up  a 
crooked  stairway  to  a  room  under  the  eaves. 

Owen  left  hastily  "to  look  around  out 
side,"  and  I  followed  as  quickly  as  possible 
for  I  knew  that  if  I  looked  around  inside  for 
any  length  of  time,  I  should  start  back  to 
the  railroad  station  on  foot. 

Old  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bohm  had  lived  on  the 
place  for  over  thirty  years  in  this  house, 
which  was  the  evolution  of  a  dug-out,  with 
many  subsequent  periods  in  prospect  before 
it  became  a  possible  home.  Mrs.  Bohm  had 
recently  been  having  "fainting  spells," 
which  frightened  her  husband  into  a  plan  to 
dispose  of  the  ranch  and  live  in  town. 

It  was  a  wonderful  ranch.  Acres  on  acres 
of  richest  grass,  a  wealth  of  hay  land  and 


FIRST  IMPRESSIONS  19 

natural  water  holes, — a  paradise  for  stock. 
To  poor  homesick  me,  this  place  had  no  sug 
gestion  of  paradise.  It  looked  run  down  and 
disorderly ;  the  fences  around  the  house  were 
adorned  with  everything  from  old  battered 
tin  buckets  and  mowing-machine  wheels  to 
the  smallest  piece  of  rusty  wire.  Mrs.  Bohm 
confided  to  me  that  "James  liked  it  that  way 
because  everything  was  so  handy."  There 
was  no  questioning  that,  but  as  a  first  im 
pression  it  was  hopeless,  and  my  heart  grew 
heavier  and  heavier  as  I  thought  of  the  new 
house  in  Wyoming,  where  we  had  expected 
to  be,  and  the  Eastern  home  I  had  just  left. 
I  walked  out  of  sight  of  the  festooned 
fence  and  tried  to  think.  Up  the  valley  the 
Peak  was  deep  blue  against  the  golden  eve 
ning  sky,  and  in  the  vast,  unbroken  silence 
of  the  prairies  I  felt  the  sense  of  chaos  and 
confusion  give  way  to  peace.  The  old  house, 
tumble-down  fences,  mowing  machine 
wheels  and  wire  took  an  inconsequent  place 
in  the  scale  of  things  compared  to  Owen's 
undertaking.  He  must  succeed.  The  un 
desirable  could  be  removed  or  made  over. 


20  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

We  were  in  a  new  world,  we  had  a  great 
domain,  we  faced  undreamed  of  experiences 
and  possibilities.  My  spirits  rose  with  a 
bound,  and  I  resolved  from  that  moment  to 
consider  our  life  here  in  the  West,  in  the 
midst  of  new  conditions,  a  great  adventure. 
At  that  instant  the  original  Bohm  dug-out 
would  have  held  no  terrors  for  me. 

Perhaps  if  I  had  known  just  how  great 
the  adventure  was  to  be,  what  varied  and 
nerve-testing  experiences  the  future  did 
hold,  I  might  have  been  daunted;  but  with  a 
farewell  look  at  the  Peak  and  a  new  sense 
of  strength  and  courage,  I  went  to  meet 
Owen.  I  realized  that  he  knew  the  possi 
bilities  of  the  place  and  that  the  conditions 
would  all  soon  be  changed,  and  I  knew,  too, 
that  he  was  distressed  at  the  realization  of 
how  it  must  all  appear  to  me.  He  looked 
troubled,  as  he  came  toward  me. 

"Can  you  stand  it  for  a  little  while?"  he 
asked. 

"Of  course,  I  can,"  I  replied,  cheerfully, 
blindly  taking  the  first  step  toward  the 
great  adventure. 


FIRST  IMPRESSIONS  21 

"It's  all  right,  dear;  it's  going  to  be  won 
derful,  living  here." 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bohm,  Tex  and  six  bashful 
cow-punchers  were  in  the  kitchen  waiting 
for  us  before  they  sat  down  to  supper.  We 
were  presented  to  the  men,  and  in  acknowl 
edgment  of  the  introduction  received  a  fleet 
ing  glance  from  six  pairs  of  diffident  eyes 
and  a  quick  jerk  from  six  slickly  brushed 
heads. 

Mrs.  Bohm  took  her  seat  at  the  foot  of  the 
long  oil-cloth-covered  table,  and  old  Mr. 
Bohm  sat  at  the  head.  Fortunate  for  me 
that  Owen  and  I  sat  side  by  side.  If  once 
during  that  meal  I  had  caught  his  eye,  I 
should  have  disgraced  myself  forever. 

Except  old  Bohm,  no  one  said  anything. 
Indeed,  no  one  had  a  chance,  for  he  talked 
all  the  time,  telling  stories,  cracking  jokes  at 
which  he  laughed  immoderately,  interspers 
ing  his  conversation  with  waves  of  his  fork, 
with  which  from  time  to  time  he  reflectively 
combed  his  beard.  I  could  not  take  my 
eyes  off  him;  there  was  a  weird  fascination 
in  following  the  movements  of  that  fork. 


22  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

It  was  prescience  which  led  me  to  do  so,  for 
old  Bohm  suddenly  ceased  using  it  as  a  toilet 
article  and  jabbed  it  into  a  piece  of  meat, 
which  he  held  out  toward  me. 

"Here,  Mrs.  Brook,  have  some  more  beef. 
I've  been  talkin*  along  here  and  clean  forgot 
you  folks  must  be  hungry."  I  assured  him  I 
couldn't  eat  another  bite.  It  was  the  most 
truthful  statement  of  my  life. 

That  night  I  laid  awake  for  hours,  thinking 
over  the  day's  experiences,  and  incidentally 
trying  to  find  a  spot  on  the  mattress  where 
a  lump  did  not  threaten  to  press  a  rib  out  of 
place.  At  last  I  fell  asleep,  to  be  suddenly 
awakened  by  the  slam  of  a  gate  under  our 
window,  followed  by  an  exclamation  which 
floated  up  out  of  the  grey  dawn:  "By  hell, 
but  this  is  a  fine  day."  Then  came  the 
squeak  of  the  pump  handle,  as  old  Bohm  per 
formed  his  morning  ablutions,  more  slams  of 
the  gate,  and  more  salutations  of  the  same 
order  in  varying  phraseology,  but  always  be 
ginning  with  "By  hell." 

Shades  of  my  ministerial  ancestors !  Was 
this  the  language  of  the  new  country  in 


FIRST  IMPRESSIONS  23 

which  we  had  come  to  live?  Surely  the 
great  adventure  promised  startling  sensa 
tions  at  the  outset,  to  say  nothing  of  a  cer 
tain  sliding  scale  of  standards. 

Owen  stirred  and  asked  sleepily  what  on 
earth  I  was  doing  up  at  that  hour  of  the 
day. 

"Changing  my  viewpoint/'  I  replied,  look 
ing  out  toward  old  Bohm's  shadowy  figure 
on  its  way  toward  the  corral.  "That  has  to 
be  done  early." 


II 

A  SURPRISE  PARTY 

WE  were  living  in  the  land  of  the 
unexpected.    Six  weeks  on  the  ranch 
demonstrated  that.     The  possibili 
ties  for  surprise  were  inexhaustible,  and  the 
probabilities    innumerable    and    certain,    if 
Owen  happened  to  be  away. 

On  one  of  these  occasions  the  cook  eloped 
with  the  best  rider  on  the  place,  more  thrill 
ing  and  upsetting  to  my  peace  of  mind  than 
the  cloud-burst  and  flood  that  followed  soon 
after.  Twenty-two  husky  and  hungry  men 
wanted  three  square  meals  a  day,  and 
one  inexperienced  bride  stood  between  them 
and  starvation.  The  situation  was  mutu 
ally  serious. 

In  my  need  came  help.    Tex,  our  coach 
man   on   that   first   drive,   saved   the   day. 
Shortly  after  the  elopement  he  came  in  for 
supplies  for  the  cow-camp.    I  was  almost 
24 


A  SURPRISE  PARTY  25 

hidden  by  pans  of  potatoes,  and  was  paring 
away  endlessly.  He  was  very  quiet  when  I 
explained,  but  after  supper  he  gathered  up 
the  dishes  to  wash  them  for  me,  looking 
very  serious.  When  he  had  finished,  he 
suddenly  turned  to  me: 

"Say,  Mrs.  Brook,  I've  just  been  studyin'. 
Jack  Brent  kin  cook  for  the  boys  out  at  camp 
all  right,  and  if  you  kin  stand  it,  I  kin  come 
in  and  cook  for  you.  It  sure  got  my  goat  to 
see  you  rastlin'  with  them  potatoes  and 
wearin'  yourself  out  cookin'  for  these  here 
men." 

Good  old  Tex!  That  was  little  short  of 
saintly.  Camp  cooking  where  he  was  auto 
crat  was  far  more  to  his  taste.  He  hated 
"messin'  'round  where  there  was  women," 
as  he  expressed  it.  Here  was  sacrifice  in 
deed!  Tex  scrubbed  his  hands  until  they 
fairly  bled,  enveloped  himself  in  a  large 
checked  gingham  apron,  and  proceeded  to 
act  as  chef  until  the  eloper  had  been 
replaced. 

Something  deepened  in  me.  I  was  seeing 
a  new  thing. 


26  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

Owen  had  been  gone  nearly  a  week.  One 
morning  I  happened  to  be  in  the  kitchen 
when  Mrs.  Bohm  entered.  Casually  she 
asked  Tex  whether  Ed  More's  wife  had  left 
him  before  he  went  to  jail,  or  after  he  got 
out.  Half  in  joke,  I  said: 

"Mercy,  Mrs.  Bohm,  is  there  a  man  in  this 
country,  with  the  exception  of  Tex,  who 
hasn't  been  in  jail  or  on  the  way  there?" 

I  was  interrupted  by  the  slamming  of  a 
door,  and  Tex  had  vanished.  Mrs.  Bohm 
looked  embarrassed  as  she  replied: 

"I  just  hate  to  tell  you,  Mrs.  Brook,  and 
Tex  would  feel  terrible  to  have  you  know; 
but  you  say  such  queer  things  sometimes,  I'd 
better  tell  you  now  that  Tex" — she  paused  a 
moment — "he's  only  been  out  of  the  'pen* 
kimself  a  year." 

"Tex  in  the  penitentiary?  What  on  earth 
for?"  I  was  almost  dazed. 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you."  Mrs.  Bohm  began 
the  story  with  apparent  reluctance,  but  her 
manner  soon  betrayed  a  certain  zest.  "You 
see,  about  four  years  ago  Tex  was  workin* 
for  a  man  up  on  Crow  Creek  and  took  some 


A  SURPRISE  PARTY  87 

cattle  on  to  Omaha  to  sell  for  him.  When 
he  came  back  he  never  brought  a  cent  of 
money,  and  told  how  he  had  been  held  up 
and  robbed.  Everybody  believed  it  at  first, 
then  all  to  onct  his  family — they  live  over 
\Vest — began  to  dress  to  kill,  and  Tex  bought 
brass  beds  for  every  room  in  the  house ;  then 
folks  began  to  suspicion  where  he  got  the 
money,  and  he  was  sent  to  the  Pen  for  two 
years." 

Poor  old  Tex!  Who  would  ever  have  sup 
posed  a  secret  longing  for  brass  beds  would 
prove  his  undoing?  I  might  have  guessed 
horses  or  cards,  but  never  brass  beds.  I 
almost  felt  the  breath  of  tragedy.  She 
seemed  sweeping  by. 

Mrs.  Bohm  went  on:  "Tex's  mighty  good 
to  his  family,  though,  and  it  most  killed  him 
when  his  wife  went  off  with  a  Mexican 
sheep-herder  while  he  was  doin'  time.  She's 
back  home  now  with  the  girls,  but  her  and 
Tex's  separated.  Ain't  it  a  fright  the  way 
women  acts?" 

"It  certainly  is,"  I  agreed,  trying  to  recon 
cile  my  previous  idea  of  convicts  with  having 


28  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

one  for  a  cook.  It  was  dreadfully  confusing 
and  disturbing.  In  spite  of  what  I  had  just 
heard,  I  knew  I  trusted  Tex.  He  would 
never  steal  from  us,  I  felt  sure.  And  my 
instinct  told  me  he  would  be  a  true  and 
loyal  friend.  There  was  no  apparent  excuse 
for  what  he  had  done,  but  he  had  paid  for 
his  moment  of  weakness  more  fully  perhaps 
than  anyone  realized.  I  pondered  over  it. 

Presently  he  came  in,  with  a  curious, 
troubled  expression  on  his  face.  I  gave  him 
the  orders,  as  usual,  with  no  sign  of  having 
heard  of  the  cloud  under  which  he  had  lived 
for  three  miserable  years.  Our  relations 
were  re-established.  I  could  see  his  relief. 

We  were  still  taking  our  meals  in  the 
kitchen,  although  the  house  was  gradually 
being  remodeled.  It  was  Saturday  evening, 
and  we  were  expecting  Owen  home.  There 
was  an  air  of  suppressed  excitement  among 
the  men.  One,  and  then  another,  bolted 
from  the  table  and  out  of  the  door,  return 
ing  in  a  shame-faced  manner  to  explain  that 
he  "thought  he  heered  somethinV  Cer 
tainly  Owen's  coming  would  never  produce 


A  SURPRISE  PARTY  29 

such  a  sensation,  unless  he  was  expected  to 
arrive  in  an  airship.  I  was  more  than  ever 
mystified. 

After  the  meal  was  over,  there  was  such 
a  general  shaving — also  in  the  kitchen — and 
such  donning  of  red  neckties,  that  I  could 
not  restrain  my  curiosity.  I  called  Tex 
aside  and  asked  him  where  they  were  going. 
He  looked  a  little  sheepish,  as  he  replied : 

"Why,  we  ain't  goin'  nowhere/'  Then  in 
a  burst  of  confidence,  "I  don't  know  as  I'd 
orter  tell  you,  but  the  fact  is,  you  folks  is 
goin'  to  be  surprised;  all  the  folks  'round  is 
goin'  to  have  a  party  here,  and  we're 
expectin'  'em." 

I  gasped.  A  sudden  suspicion  flashed 
through  my  mind. 

"Tex,  did  you  plan  this?  What  on  earth 
shall  I  do?" 

Tex  saw  I  was  really  troubled.  "Why, 
Mrs.  Brook,"  he  said,  "you  don't  have  to  do 
nothin'.  Just  turn  the  house  over  to  'em, 
and  along  about  midnight  I'll  make  some 
coffee — they'll  bring  baskets." 

I  was  relieved  to  know  that  they  only 


30  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

wanted  the  house,  and  would  provide  their 
own  refreshments,  for  it  was  appalling  to  be 
an  impromptu  hostess  to  an  entire  commu 
nity  and  to  speculate  upon  the  possibility  of 
one  small  cold  roast  and  chocolate  cake  satis 
fying  a  crowd  of  young  people,  after  drives 
of  thirty  miles  or  more  across  the  prairie. 

"Me  and  the  boys" — Tex  spoke  somewhat 
apologetically,  as  he  started  toward  the 
door — "we  kind  a  thought  maybe  you  and 
Mr.  Brook  would  like  to  get  acquainted, 
seein's  how  yttu're  goln'  to  live  here ;  -but  I 
guess  we  oughten  to  have  did  what  we 
done." 

I  felt  ashamed  of  my  momentary  pertur 
bation,  as  the  force  of  that  last  sentence  of 
Tex's  reached  me.  These  men  of  the  plains 
were  as  simple  and  sensitive  as  children 
about  many  things.  They  would  really 
grieve  if  they  felt  this  affair,  planned  solely 
on  our  account,  gave  us  no  pleasure.  I 
hastened  to  reassure  him. 

"It  was  mighty  nice  of  you  men  to  think 
of  it,"  I  said,  cheerfully.  "We  do  want  to 
know  the  people  in  the  country,  and  we  are 


A  SURPRISE  PARTY  31 

going  to  enjoy  every  moment.  I  was  'sur 
prised'  before  the  party  began,  that's  all." 

Tex  went  out  satisfied,  grinning  broadly. 

To  my  good  fortune,  Owen  arrived  before 
the  guests  came.  I  told  him  what  was  about 
to  befall  us.  His  expression  was  dubious. 
All  he  said  was  "Thunder." 

Owen  and  one  of  the  men  had  been  driv 
ing  about  the  country  all  the  week,  buying 
horses  suitable  to  turn  in  on  a  Government 
cavalry  contract.  The  night  before  they  had 
spent  on  the  floor  of  a  cold  railroad  station, 
wrapped  up  in  their  blankets,  with  a  lighted 
lantern  under  the  covering  at  their  feet. 
Their  sleep  was  somewhat  broken,  with 
either  cremation  or  freezing  pending  that 
cold  September  night.  Poor  Owen !  He  was 
completely  worn  out.  And  now  he  had  to  go 
through  a  surprise  party. 

At  eight  o'clock,  Tex,  self-appointed  mas 
ter  of  ceremonies,  ushered  in  the  first  arriv 
als.  They  were  a  tall,  lean  chap  and  two  very 
much  be-curled  young  misses.  I  made  trials 
without  number  at  conversation,  but  they 
could  only  be  induced  to  say  "Yes"  and  "No." 


32  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

From  eight  until  ten  they  came, — ranch 
men,  cow-punchers,  ex-cow-punchers  run 
ning  their  own  outfits,  infant  cow-punchers, 
girls  and  women,  until  kitchen  and  sitting 
room  were  filled  to  overflowing,  and  every 
chair  and  bench  on  the  place  in  use.  Among 
the  last  to  arrive  was  a  tall,  languid  Texan, 
accompanied  by  two  languid,  drab-colored 
women.  They  were  presented  to  us  as 
"Robert,  Missus  Reed  and  Maggie."  "Mag 
gie,"  I  immediately  concluded,  was  a  sister, 
but  not  being  quite  certain,  I  sought  enlight 
enment  from  Mrs.  Bohm. 

"She  ain't  Reed's  sister,"  she  informed 
me  in  a  low  tone,  "she's  his  girl." 

"Oh,  works  for  them,  you  mean?"  I  said, 
somewhat  puzzled  by  the  Reed  connections. 

"Works  nothin',"  Mrs.  Bohm  replied, 
scornfully.  "She's  got  the  next  place  to 
*em  and  goes  with  'em  everywhere.  Ella 
don't  seem  to  mind.  I'd  just  call  her  'Mag 
gie'  if  I  was  you,"  and  Mrs.  Bohm  departed 
to  join  a  group  of  women  near  the  door. 

I  looked  over  at  the  two  with  a  new 
interest.  They  were  chatting  and  laughing 


A  SURPRISE  PARTY  33 

together,  the  "girl"  and  the  wife  seemingly 
on  the  best  of  terms,  with  no  sign  of  rivalry 
for  the  tall  Texan's  affections.  Here  was  a 
situation  fraught  with  latent  possibilities 
that  made  me  tremble,  yet — "Ella  don't 
seem  to  mind." 

The  kitchen  had  been  converted  into  a 
ballroom  by  moving  the  table  up  against  the 
wall  and  placing  three  chairs  upon  it.  Un 
fortunately  the  sink  and  stove  were  fixtures, 
but  everything  else,  including  the  bread  jar, 
found  a  temporary  resting  place  in  the  yard. 

Old  Bohm,  with  his  fiddle  under  his  arm, 
gingerly  ascended  the  table  first.  Then  an 
other  man  followed  with  a  similar  instru 
ment;  and  last  came  a  youth  with  a  mouth 
harp.  No  fatality  having  resulted  from  the 
musicians  taking  their  seats,  the  dancing 
began. 

The  music,  if  such  a  combination  of  sounds 
can  be  dignified  by  that  name,  was  such  as 
to  defy  description.  Never  in  the  wildest 
flights  of  fancy  could  I  have  conceived  of 
such  execution  and  such  sounds.  The  two 
men  sawed  their  violins,  and  the  third  wa3 


34  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

purple  in  the  face  from  his  efforts  on  the 
mouth-harp;  all  were  stamping  time  with 
their  feet,  and  he  of  the  harp  was  slapping 
his  knee  with  his  unoccupied  hand. 

Before  every  dance  a  council  was  held, 
after  which  each  musician  would  play  the 
tune  decided  upon,  as  best  suited  to  his  taste. 
Old  Bohm  tried  to  get  to  the  end  in  the 
shortest  time  possible,  while  the  second 
fiddler,  taking  things  more  seriously,  finished 
four  or  five  bars  behind  his  companion. 
The  harpist,  not  playing  "second"  to  any 
thing  or  anybody,  had  his  own  opinion  as  to 
how  "A  Hot  Time  in  the  Old  Town"  should 
go.  With  these  independent  views,  the  re 
sult  was  a  series  of  the  most  discordant 
sounds  that  ever  fell  on  mortal  ears.  How 
ever,  music  mattered  little,  for  all  had  come 
to  have  a  good  time,  and  the  "caller-out," 
with  both  eyes  shut  tight  and  arms  folded 
across  his  breast,  was  making  himself 
heard  above  all  other  sounds. 

"Birdie  in  the  center  and  all  hands 
around!"  he  commanded.  Then  fiddles  and 
mouth  harp  began  a  wild  jig,  couples  raced 


A  SURPRISE  PARTY  35 

'round  and  'round,  while  "Birdie,"  a  blond 
and  blushing  maiden,  stood  patiently  in  the 
midst  of  the  whirling  circle,  until  the  next 
order  came: 

"Birdie  hop  out  and  Crow  hop  in! 
Take  holt  of  paddies  and  run  around  agin." 

"Crow"  was  a  broad,  heavy-set  cow- 
puncher,  wearing  chaps,  and  in  the  endeavor 
to  "run  around  agin,"  I  found  my  progress 
somewhat  impeded  by  his  spurs,  which 
caught  in  my  skirt  and  very  nearly  upset  me. 

All  the  riders  wore  their  heavy  boots  and 
spurs,  and  it  required  real  agility  to  avoid 
being  stepped  on  or  having  one's  skirt  torn 
to  ribbons.  I  was  devoutly  thankful  that 
chiffon  and  tulle  ball  gowns  were  not  worn 
on  ranches. 

There  was  more  to  avoid  than  spurs.  We 
had  to  dance  about  the  kitchen  and  avoid 
the  stove,  the  sink  and  the  tabled  musicians, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  nails  in  the  floor. 
But  after  a  few  hours'  practice,  I  began 
to  feel  qualified  to  waltz  on  top  of  the  House 
of  the  Seven  Gables,  and  avoid  at  least 
six  of  them. 


36  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

Finally,    the    caller-out    shouted    loudly: 

"Allemande,    Joe!      Right    hand    to   pardner    and 

around  you  go. 

Balance  to  corners,  don't  be  slack; 
Turn  right  around  and  take  a  back  track. 
When  you  git  home,  don't  be  afraid, 
Swing  her  agin  and  all  promenade." 

My  partner  obeyed  every  command  with 
such  vigor  that  when  at  last  he  led  me  to 
my  seat  I  was  panting  and  dizzy;  nor  had  I 
quite  recovered  my  breath  when  the  music 
struck  up  again,  and  Tex  led  me  forth. 

The  exertion  of  the  first  quadrille  had  been 
too  much  for  his  comfort,  so  he  had  dis 
pensed  with  both  collar  and  coat.  His 
trousers  and  vest  bore  evidence  of  having 
seen  many  a  round-up,  and  his  sjiirt,  which 
had  once  been  white,  was  now  multi-colored. 
In  the  wonderful  red  ascot  tie  which  encir 
cled  his  neck  were  stuck  four  scarfpins,  one 
above  the  other.  There  being  nothing  to 
hold  the  loop  of  the  tie  in  place,  it  gradually 
worked  up  the  back  of  his  head,  until  its 
progress  was  stopped  by  the  edge  of  a  small 
skull-cap,  which  Tex  wore  as  the  crowning 
feature  of  his  costume.  The  cap,  tilted 


A  SURPRISE  PARTY  37 

slightly  to  one  side,  gave  him  a  rakish  ap 
pearance,  quite  in  contrast  with  his  air  of 
importance  and  responsibility. 

I  danced — my  head  fairly  spins  when  I 
think  how  I  danced — for,  since  the  party 
was  given  in  our  honor,  dance  I  must  with 
every  man  who  asked  me. 

Owen,  not  being  a  dancing  man,  made 
himself  agreeable  to  the  wall-flowers  and  the 
children,  stealing  upstairs  about  once  an 
hour  for  a  few  moments'  nap  on  the  bed 
room  floor.  The  beds  themselves  were  occu 
pied  by  sleeping  infants,  whose  mothers 
were  going  through  the  intricate  mazes  of 
those  dances  below. 

At  one  o'clock  Tex  began  to  make  the 
coffee,  whereupon  the  musicians  descended 
from  the  table,  and  the  expectant  party  sat 
down.  But  where  were  their  baskets?  My 
heart  sank,  as  Tex  approached  holding  a 
very  small  one.  He  informed  me  in  a  stage 
whisper  it  was  all  there  was! 

The  basket  contained  a  cake  and  one  wee 
chick,  evidently  fried  soon  after  leaving  the 
shell.  It  was  the  smallest  chicken  I  ever 


38  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

saw.  I  hastily  produced  our  cake  and  roast, 
and  then  took  one  despairing  look  around  at 
the  forty  individuals  to  be  fed.  I  shall 
never  be  able  to  explain  it,  unless  Tex  had 
an  Aladdin's  lamp  concealed  in  his  pocket, 
for  cake,  roast  and  chicken  appeared  to  be 
inexhaustible,  and  the  supply  more  than 
equaled  the  demand. 

I  was  aroused  from  my  contemplation  of 
the  miracle  by  a  feminine  voice,  the  speaker 
saying  half  to  herself  and  half  to  me: 
•  "It  took  me  most  two  hours  to  iron  Nell's 
dress  this  mornin',  but  I  sure  got  a  pretty 
'do'  on  it."  Following  her  beaming  glance, 
I  found  that  it  rested  on  a  mass  of  ruffles, 
which  adorned  the  dress  of  "Birdie"  of  that 
first  quadrille.  Just  then  the  music  began 
again,  and  I  saw  Ed  Lay  ask  her  to  dance. 
I  trusted,  after  all  that  work,  the  'do' 
wouldn't  be  undone  by  his  spurs;  still  the 
effort  had  not  been  wasted,  for  this  was  the 
fifth  time  he  had  danced  with  her. 

No  doting  mother  could  have  taken  more 
pride  in  the  debut  of  an  only  child,  than  this 
*yvork-worn  sister  whose  eyes  sparkled  as 


A  SURPRISE  PARTY  39 

they  followed  "Birdie's"  whirling  figure  held 
firmly  by  the  encircling  arm  of  the  cow- 
puncher,  and  she  murmured  softly  with  a 
half  sigh,  "Ain't  it  grand?"  To  me  it  was 
"grand"  indeed,  that  even  an  embryo  ro 
mance  could  bring  a  new  light  to  those  tired 
eyes. 

It  was  six  o'clock  Sunday  morning  when 
one  most  thoughtful  person  suggested  that 
"they'd  orter  be  goin' " ;  and  by  seven  the 
last  guest  had  departed.  Then  Owen  and  I, 
weary  and  heavy-eyed,  donned  our  wraps, 
climbed  into  the  wagon,  and  started  on  a 
sixteen-mile  drive  to  the  railroad  to  meet 
his  brother,  who  was  coming  from  California 
to  see  "how  we  were  making  it." 

I  was  almost  too  tired  to  speak,  but  one 
thought  was  struggling  for  expression,  and 
as  we  started  up  the  first  long  hill,  I  had  to 
say: 

"Anyone  who  ever  spoke  of  the  'peace  and 
quiet  of  ranch  life'  lived  in  New  York  and 
dreamed  about  it.  In  twenty-four  hours  I 
have  discovered  that  we  have  an  ex-convict 
for  a  trusted  cook,  and  have  received  as 


40  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

guests  a  man  with  his  wife  and  resident 
affinity.  We  have  had  a  surprise  party  and 
I  have  danced  with  all  the  blemished  char 
acters  the  country  boasts  of,  until  six  o'clock 
in  the  morning  of  the  Sabbath  day,  with 
never  a  qualm  of  conscience.  What  do  you 
suppose  has  become  of  my  moral  standards  ?" 

Owen  was  amused.  He  asked  me,  quizzi 
cally,  what  I  thought  they  would  be  by  the 
end  of  a  year. 

"Mercy!"  I  replied,  "at  the  rate  they  are 
being  overthrown,  there  won't  be  enough 
left  to  consider,  unless" — I  thought  a  mo 
ment — "unless  I  can  reconstruct  a  more 
enduring  set  from  parts  of  the  old." 


m 

THE  ROOT  CELLAR 


XXTT^IOR    East    is    East   and   West   te 

•1     West,  and  never  the  twain  shall 

•*•       meet."    The  phrase  kept  haunt 

ing  me  all  through  these  first  days  when 

everything   was    so   new    and    strange.     I 

almost  felt  as  though  I  had  passed  into  a 

new  phase  of  existence. 

Except  for  Owen,  there  was  no  point  of 
contact  between  the  world  of  cities  and  peo 
ple  I  had  just  left  and  this  land  of  cattle  and 
cow-punchers,  bounded  by  the  sky-rimmed 
hflls.  In  Owen,  however,  the  East  and  the 
West  did  meet.  He  understood  and  be 
longed  to  both  and  adapted  himself  as 
easily  to  the  one  as  to  the  other.  Wearing 
his  derby,  he  belonged  to  the  life  of  the 
East;  in  his  broad-brimmed  Stetson,  he  was 
a  living  part  of  the  West. 

The  compelling  reality  of  this  new  life 
41 


42  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

affected  me  deeply.  Non-essentials  counted 
for  nothing.  There  were  no  artificial  prob 
lems  or  values. 

No  one  in  the  country  cared  who  you 
might  have  been  or  who  you  were.  The 
Mayflower  and  Plymouth  Rock  meant 
nothing  here.  It  would  be  thought  you  were 
speaking  of  some  garden  flowers  or  some 
breed  of  chickens. 

The  one  thing  of  vital  importance  was 
what  you  were — how  you  adjusted  yourself 
to  meet  conditions  as  you  found  them,  and 
how  nearly  you  reached,  or  how  far  you  fell 
below  their  measure  of  man  or  woman. 

I  felt  as  though  up  to  this  time  I  had  been 
in  life's  kindergarten,  but  that  I  had  now 
entered  into  its  school,  and  I  realized  tHat 
only  as  1  passed  the  given  tests  should  I 
succeed. 

I  learned  much  from  the  rough,  untutored 
men  with  whom  I  was  in  daily  association. 
They  were  men  whose  rules  of  conduct 
were  governed  by  individual  choice,  unham 
pered  by  conventions.  They  were  so  direct 
and  honest,  so  unfailingly  kind  and  gentle 


THE  ROOT  CELLAR  43 

toward  any  weaker  thing,  and  so  simple  and 
responsive,  that  I  liked  and  trusted  them 
from  the  first.  All  but  old  Bohm,  the  man 
from  whom  we  were  buying.  He  was  such 
a  totally  different  type  that  he  seemed  a 
man  apart.  The  son  of  a  German  father 
and  an  Irish  mother,  he  had  inherited  a 
nature  too  complex  and  contradictory  to  be 
easily  fathomed. 

Mrs.  Bohm,  with  her  white,  calm  face  and 
gentle  voice,  attracted  me,  but  her  husband 
aroused  in  both  Owen  and  me  an  instinctive 
distrust.  He  was  good  nature  personified,  a 
most  companionable  person,  with  his  easy, 
contagious  laugh,  his  amusing  stories,  quick 
wit,  and  breezy  air  of  good  fellowship.  He 
could  quote  Burns,  Scott,  and  other  poets  by 
the  hour,  and  fiddle  away  on  his  violin,  until 
we  were  nearly  moved  to  tears.  He  was 
almost  too  good-natured;  he  didn't  quite 
ring  true.  I  noticed  that  while  he  always 
referred  or  spoke  to  his  wife  affectionately, 
as  "my  old  mammy,"  her  attitude  toward 
him  was  rather  impersonal.  She  called  him 
"James"  with  quiet  dignity,  but  seldom 


44  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

talked  with  him,  and  appeared  to  take  very 
little  interest. 

On  the  side  of  a  hill,  some  distance  from 
the  house,  was  an  old  root  cellar,  used, 
according  to  Bohm,  for  storing  potatoes, 
turnips,  and  other  vegetables  for  winter.  It 
was  most  inconveniently  located;  there  were 
hillsides  much  nearer,  and  considering  that 
the  cellar  under  the  house  was  always  used 
for  such  purposes,  it  seemed  strange  that 
another  should  be  needed  so  far  away.  I 
was  possessed  with  a  desire  to  explore  it. 
It  suggested  hidden  treasures  and  Indian 
relics,  which  I  was  collecting. 
One  day  I  was  poised  on  the  top  of  the  cellar 
step,  about  to  descend  into  its  mysterious 
depths. 

Old  Bohm  appeared.  "Was  you  lookin' 
for  something'?"  he  asked,  somewhat  out  of 
breath. 

"Oh,  no,"  I  replied,  going  down  a  few 
steps.  "I  was  just  exploring,  and  thought  I 
would  investigate  this  old  root  cellar." 

"I  thought  that  was  what  you  was  gouV 
to  do,  and  I  hurried  up  to  tell  you  to  be 


THE  ROOT  CELLAR  45 

awful  careful  of  rattlesnakes;  there's  a  pile 
of  'em  'round  these  here  old  cellars."  Bohm 
spoke  with  apparent  solicitude. 

"Heavens!  I  wouldn't  go  down  there  for 
anything!"  I  exclaimed, — and  I  got  out  of 
the  cellarway  as  quickly  as  possible. 

Old  Bohm  looked  down  the  steps  at  the 
strong,  closed  door  of  heavy  boards. 

"Oh,  maybe  it  would  be  all  right.  You 
could  listen  for  'em  and  jump,  if  you  heard 
'em  rattle,"  he  remarked,  casually. 

I  shook  my  head.  "Not  much;  I  don't 
want  to  hear  them  rattle,"  and  I  started 
toward  the  house. 

Bohm  went  up  toward  the  wind-mill.  As 
I  turned  away  I  caught  a  curious  expression 
on  his  face — a  faint  gleam  of  something. 

As  I  came  through  the  meadow  gate, 
Owen  was  getting  into  the  buggy. 

"Hello,"  he  called,  "I've  been  looking  for 
you  everywhere.  I  have  to  drive  over  to 
Three  Bar.  Do  you  want  to  go?" 

I  was  always  ready  to  go  anywhere,  so 
while  Owen  was  driving  the  horses  about,  I 
ran  in  to  get  my  hat. 


46  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

Not  one  of  our  horses  was  thoroughly 
broken,  so  we  always  had  to  follow  the  same 
method  of  procedure  before  starting  any 
where.  After  the  horses  were  hitched  up, 
Charley,  to  whom  fell  odd  jobs  of  every  sort, 
stood  at  their  heads  until  Owen  was  fairly 
seated  and  had  the  lines  firmly  in  his  hands. 
Then,  after  a  few  ineffectual  attempts  to 
kick  or  run  down  Charley  before  he  could 
get  out  of  the  way,  off  dashed  the  horses 
around  and  around  the  open  space  between 
the  house  and  the  pond,  until  a  little  of  the 
edge  had  been  taken  off  their  spirits.  Then 
Owen  stopped  them  for  one  moment,  I  made 
a  quick  jump  into  the  buggy,  and  away  we 
went  at  top  speed  toward  the  gate  that 
Charley  had  run  to  open.  We  usually  missed 
the  post  by  a  quarter  of  an  inch,  and  at  that 
juncture  I  invariably  shut  my  eyes  and  held 
my  breath. 

The  road  to  Three  Bar  Ranch  led  to 
the  North  and  wound  up  a  very  long  hill, 
then  across  a  rolling  mesa.  The  prairie  was 
covered  with  short  grama  grass,  just  turn 
ing  a  faint  brown,  the  yellow  sunflowers  and 


THE  ROOT  CELLAR  47 

great  clumps  of  rattleweed,  with  its  spikes 
of  lovely  purple,  giving  a  touch  of  color  to 
the  scene  before  us.  The  Spanish  bayonet 
dotted  the  hillsides,  and  over  all  hung  the 
summer  sky  like  burnished  copper.  The 
only  sound,  aside  from  that  of  the  horses' 
hoofs  and  the  crunch  of  the  wheels  on  the 
soft  prairie  road,  was  the  occasional  song 
of  the  meadow  lark,  all  the  joy  of  the  sum 
mer  day  sounding  in  its  one  short  thrilling 
note.  In  the  gulches,  where  the  grass  grew 
deep  and  rank,  the  wind  tossed  it  softly,  and 
it  rippled  and  sparkled  in  the  shifting  light, 
as  water  gleams  in  the  sun.  Everything 
was  so  still  that  animation  seemed  for  the 
time  suspended,  as  we  drove  along  silenced 
by  the  spell  of  the  prairies. 

Three  Bar,  one  of  the  oldest  ranches 
in  the  country,  stood  against  the  side  of  a 
hill.  It  was  a  long,  low  structure  of  logs 
built  in  the  prevailing  fashion  of  the  early 
ranch  houses,  room  after  room  opening  into 
one  another,  usually  with  an  outside  door 
to  each. 

The  ranch  was  owned  by  the  Mortons, 


48  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

English  people,  who  were  among  the  earliest 
settlers  in  the  country.  They  greeted  us 
most  cordially,  and  as  Owen  went  out  to  the 
corral  with  Mr.  Morton  to  look  at  some 
horses,  Mrs.  Morton  took  me  into  the  house. 

The  room  we  entered  had  Very  little 
furniture,  but  was  redeemed  from  bareness 
by  a  wonderful  old  stone  fireplace  at  one 
end. 

""Mrs.  Morton  was  short  and  heavy  set. 
"Spotless"  was  the  only  word  her  appear 
ance  suggested  when  I  first  saw  her.  Her 
skin  was  as  fair  as  a  child's,  while  her  hair 
was  as  white  as  the  apron  she  Wore. 

Her  flow  of  conversation  was  unceasing 
and  I  was  reminded  of  a  remark  that  Charley 
made  to  me  when  the  telephone  was  first 
put  in  over  the  fence  lines. 

"Old  lady  Morton  talked  so  fast  that  she 
ripped  all  the  barbs  off  the  wire."  Before  I 
had  time  to  reply  to  one  question,  she  had 
asked  another,  and  was  off  on  an  entirely 
different  subject.  I  suppose  the  accumu 
lated  conversation  of  months  was  vented  on 
my  innocent  head,  for  she  told  me,  poor 


THE  ROOT  CELLAR  49 

thing,  that  she  hadn't  seen  another  woman 
since  Christmas. 

"Us" — 3he  never  said  we — "us  never  visits 
the  neighbors,  but  was  coming  up  to  see  you, 
Mrs.  Brook,  for  us  heard  you  and  Mr.  Brook 
was  different.  Us  lives  out  here  on  a  ranch, 
but  us  knows  when  people  are  the  right 
kind." 

I  didn't  know  whether  to  be  considered 
"different"  was  desirable,  or  not,  and  I  was 
dying  to  ask  her  what  constituted  "the  right 
kind,"  but  had  no  time  before  she  sud 
denly  asked : 

"Have  the  Bohms  gone?  Us  was  waiting 
till  they  went." 

I  explained  that  they  were  still  on  the 
ranch,  as  Mr.  Bohm  had  to  gather  and 
counterbrand  all  the  stock  before  turning  it 
over  to  Owen,  and  that  he  had  been  delayed. 

Mrs.  Morton  gave  a  little  grunt  of  con 
tempt.  "Old  Bohm  won't  hurry  any  while 
he's  getting  free  board.  He  may  be  with 
you  all  winter.  Us  hopes  Mr.  Brook  won't 
be  imposed  on.  He's  a  smart  man,  old  Jim 
Bohm  is,  but  he's  a  bad  one." 


50  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

"Bad  one?"  I  repeated,  inwardly  praying 
that  the  Bohms  would  not  be  permanent 
guests. 

"Old  Jim  Bohm  is  a  bad  man,"  Mrs.  Mor 
ton  said  again,  rocking  violently  back  and 
forth.  "I  was  here  when  they  came.  She's 
all  right,  but  there  is  nothing  he  won't  do. 
Why" — her  voice  sank  to  a  whisper — "six 
teen  men  have  been  traced  as  far  as  that 
ranch  and  never  been  heard  of  again,  and 
Jim  Bohm's  been  getting  richer  all  along." 

Mrs.  Morton  scarcely  paused  for  breath,  so 
I  couldn't  have  said  anything.  But  I  was 
speechless,  anyhow. 

"Not  one  of  them,  not  one,"  she  declared, 
"was  ever  heard  of  again,  and  if  you  were 
to  examine  that  old  root  cellar  on  the  hill, 
you'd  find  out  what'  I  say  is  true." 

The  incident  of  the  morning  flashed  across 
my  mind,  and  I  felt  as  though  a  piece  of  ice 
were  being  drawn  slowly  along  my  spine. 

"How  perfectly  horrible!"  I  managed  to 
gasp,  "but  it  can't  be  true." 

"It's  true,  all  right."  There  was  no  doubt 
ing  Mrs.  Morton's  conviction.  "There's  facts 


THE  ROOT  CELLAR  51 

there's  no  getting  'round.  Jim  Bohm  and 
old  Happy  Dick,  that  used  to  work  for  him, 
came  up  here  over  the  trail  from  Texas  with 
a  band  of  horses  that  Bohm  and  another 
man  owned.  The  other  fellow  was  with 
them  when  they  started,  but  Bohm  said 
he  died  on  the  way,  and  that's  all  anyone 
knows  about  it,  except  that  old  Bohm  kept 
all  the  horses." 

"Then  a  few  years  later,  a  young  fellow 
that  was  consumptive,  came  out  to  work  for 
them.  I  know  he  had  quite  a  bit  of  money, 
because  he  stopped  here  once  to  ask  John 
what  to  do  with  it.  He  hadn't  been  there 
very  long  before  he  dropped  dead,  according 
to  Jim  Bohm's  story.  His  folks  back  East 
tried  to  get  the  money,  but  Bohm  said  the 
fellow  owed  it  to  him,  and  they  couldn't  do 
a  thing  about  it." 

I  sat  as  if  petrified,  unable  to  take  my  eyes 
from  Mrs.  Morton's  face,  as  she  went  on 
and  on. 

"He  was  in  with  all  the  rustlers  in  the 
country,"  she  continued,  "and  once  when  a 
posse  was  hunting  a  man  who  had  stole  a 


52  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

lot  of  horses,  Bohm  tried  his  best  to  keep 
them  from  searching  the  place,  but  the 
Sheriff  told  him  they  would  arrest  him  if 
he  made  any  more  fuss  about  it,  so  he  had 
to  keep  still.  When  they  came  to  the  hay 
mow,  they  stuck  a  pitchfork  right  into  a 
man  hidden  in  the  hay,  and  old  Bohm  swore 
he  didn't  know  a  thing  about  his  being 
there.  The  next  us  heard,  old  Bill  Law  had 
dropped  dead  in  the  corral.  I  tell  you" — 
Mrs.  Morton  leaned  forward  and  shook  her 
finger  in  my  face — "it's  mighty  funny,  the 
way  men  keeps  dropping  dead  over  there; 
they  don't  do  it  anywhere  else.  Happy  Dick 
was  the  last.  About  a  year  ago  he  told  Mor 
ton  he'd  stole  two  men  rich,  and  now  he  was 
going  to  steal  himself  rich:  But  two  days 
after  he  was  found  dead  in  the  willows,  and 
Bohm  said  that  when  he  came  upon  the  body, 
Happy  Dick  had  been  dead  for  hours." 

Mrs.  Morton  showed  signs  of  running 
down  for  a  moment,  so  I  hastened  to  ask 
why  it  was  that,  though  suspicion  always 
pointed  toward  him,  old  Bohm  had  never 
been  arrested. 


THE  ROOT  CELLAR  53 

"Jim  Bohm's  too  smooth,"  Mrs.  Morton 
answered.  "If  you  found  him  with  a  smok 
ing  gun  in  his  hand  and  a  man  dead  on  the 
ground  beside  him,  he'd  lie  out  of  it  some 
how;  probably  would  swear  that  as  he  came 
up,  he  saw  the  man  shoot  himself.  Oh !  he's 
a  slick  one.  Us  always  said  us  pitied  any 
one  who  had  business  dealings  with  him, 
but,"  she  stopped  as  she  saw  Owen  and  Mr. 
Morton  coming  up  the  walk,  "Mr.  Brook 
looks  like  a  man  that  can  take  care  of  him 
self.  I'd  watch  out  for  Bohm,  though. 
Watch  out  for  him!" 

"Thank  you,  Mrs.  Morton,"  I  said,  as 
Owen  came  to  the  door.  "I  am  glad  you 
told  me.  Please  come  to  see  us,"  and  with 
conflicting  emotions  I  prepared  to  leave 
Three  Bar  Ranch. 

I  scarcely  knew  what  to  think.  I  was 
worried,  and  yet 

When  I  told  Owen  I  expected  him  to  pooh- 
pooh  the  story  and  relieve  my  mind,  but  he 
did  nothing  of  the  sort.  With  a  queer 
little  wrinkle  between  his  eyes,  he  listened 
attentively. 


54  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

"Owen,  you  don't  think  there  is  any  truth 
in  it,  do  you?"  I  asked,  much  troubled  by 
his  silence.  He  flicked  a  fly  off  Dan's  back 
before  replying: 

"I  don't  know  what  to  think.  The  old 
chap's  a  rascal,  there's  no  doubt  about  that; 
but  I  didn't  suppose  he  was  a  cold-blooded 
murderer." 

Again  I  felt  the  ice  go  up  and  down  my 
spine.  "Great  heavens,  Owen,  can't  you 
have  someone  go  through  the  root  cellar,  to 
see  if  there  is  anything  out  of  the  way 
there  ?  And,  above  all,  get  the  stock  gathered 
and  ship  Bohm — I  despise  him,  anyhow!" 

"Don't  let  it  worry  you,"  said  Owen; 
"probably  it's  all  mere  talk.  Bohm  won't 
bother  us ;  and  in  a  few  weeks  the  stock  will 
all  be  turned  over  and  he'll  have  no  excuse 
for  staying." 

"A  few  weeks  is  a  long  time,"  I  said, 
gloomily,  feeling  as  if  my  hold  on  life  were 
gradually  slipping.  "According  to  Mrs. 
Morton,  everybody  on  the  place  might  drop 
dead  in  less  time  than  that." 

Owen  laughed,  but  the  next  moment  a 


THE  ROOT  CELLAR  55 

shadow    crossed    his    face,    and    he    said 
decisively : 

"I'm  going  to  look  into  that  root-cellar 
business.  I  want  to  have  the  place  thor 
oughly  cleaned  out,  anyhow." 

The  boys  were  going  in  to  supper  when 
we  drove  up.  Charley  came  to  take  the 
horses,  and  Owen  greeted  him : 

"Well,  how's  everything?" 

"Oh,  all  right,"  answered  Charley  indif 
ferently,  as  he  started  to  loosen  the  tugs. 
"Nothings  happened  since  you  folks  went 
away,  only  the  old  root  cellar's  caved  in." 

Speech  was  impossible.  Owen  and  I  stood 
as  if  petrified,  looking  at  each  other.  We 
turned  to  go  up  to  the  house.  I  felt  as 
though  some  wretched  fate  were  making 
game  of  us.  As  we  entered  the  door,  Owen 
spoke : 

"Esther" — he  was  very  serious — "don't 
say  a  word  or  betray  any  interest  whatever 
in  this  matter.  After  supper  is  over,  I'll  go 
up  to  investigate." 

Talk  about  the  skeleton  at  a  feast!    There 


56  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

were  sixteen  horrid,  grinning  things  around 
the  table  that  night,  besides  a  few  that  Mrs. 
Morton  had  overlooked. 

Mrs.  Bohm  was  whiter  than  usual  and 
very  quiet.  Old  Bohm  was  in  high  spirits. 
We  were  scarcely  seated  before  he  declared 
it  "a  damn  shame"  that  the  old  root  cellar 
had  to  cave  in. 

We  showed  a  little  surprise,  but  affected 
unconcern.  Playing  the  role  assigned  to  me, 
I  remarked  indifferently  that  we  never  used 
it,  anyhow,  and  with  this  Bohm  cheerfully 
agreed. 

Later,  when  Owen  went  up  to  examine 
the  cellar,  I  noticed,  from  my  point  of  obser 
vation  at  the  window,  that  old  Bohm  was 
close  by  his  side. 

Soon  after  Owen  came  in  looking  very 
grave. 

"Well,  it  caved  in,  all  right,  and  it  never 
can  be  cleaned  out.  But  there's  one  thing  I 
am  convinced  of" — and  he  looked  toward  the 
hill  with  a  frown — "it  didn't  cave  in  of 
itself." 


IV 
THE  GREAT  ADVENTURE  PROGRESSES 

JOHN,  the  mail  carrier,  was  our  only 
connecting  link  with  the  great  outside 
world.  Three  times  a  week  he  brought 
the  mail.  From  the  first  sight  of  a  tiny 
speck  on  the  top  of  the  distant  hill,  our 
hearts  thrilled.  I  watched  it  grow  larger 
and  larger,  until  the  two-wheeled  cart 
stopped  at  the  garden  gate.  With  hands 
trembling  with  impatience,  I  unlocked  the 
old,  worn  bag,  which  John  threw  on  the  floor. 

I  was  the  honorable  Postmistress.  My 
desk  was  covered  with  Postal  Laws,  which  I 
almost  learned  by  heart.  I  had  the  New 
England  respect  for  the  Federal  prison,  the 
place  of  correction  for  delinquent  Postal 
employees. 

One  rule  was  absolute.  The  key  of  the 
mail  bag  had  to  be  securely  attached  to  the 
Post  Office.  My  Post  Office  was  a  wooden 
57 


58  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

cracker  box,  which  held  the  mail  for  the  few 
outside  patrons. 

The  inspector  of  Post  Offices  arrived  un 
announced  one  day.  He  frowningly  looked 
over  my  accounts,  while  I  stood  by  in  per 
turbation.  Suddenly  he  caught  sight  of  the 
key  at  the  end  of  a  long  brass  chain 
"securely  attached  to  the  Post  Office."  He 
got  up  to  investigate.  The  frown  disap 
peared  by  magic,  and  a  smile  played  around 
his  stern  mouth.  He  burst  into  laughter. 
I  explained  I  was  very  careful  to  comply 
with  all  the  regulations.  He  gave  me  a 
humorous  glance — and  stayed  to  dinner. 

The  papers  on  Monday  evening  brought  us 
exciting  news.  A  train  on  the  U.  P.  had 
been  held  up  at  a  lonely  station,  thirty  miles 
from  our  ranch.  All  the  Pullman  passen 
gers  had  been  robbed  and  one  man  shot  and 
killed.  The  hold-ups  had  escaped  and  were 
at  large  in  the  "country  adjoining." 

"If  they  are  in  the  country  adjoining, 
they'll  come  here  eventually,"  I  remarked  to 
Owen.  "This  ranch  is  a  perfect  magnet  for  all 
the  questionable  characters  in  the  vicinity." 


THE  GREAT  ADVENTURE          59 

Owen  thanked  me  for  the  compliment  and 
went  out  to  the  bunk  house  to  interview 
Robert  Reed,  now  in  charge  of  the  hay  gang. 

This  Reed  was  an  interesting  fellow, — a 
natural  leader  of  men,  and  so  efficient  that 
Owen  had  made  him  hay  foreman. 

When  we  had  driven  over  to  his  claim  to 
see  him  about  working  for  us,  Mrs.  Reed 
came  out  to  the  buggy,  wiping  her  hands  on 
her  apron. 

"No,  Bob  ain't  home  this  morning,"  she 
responded  to  Owen's  inquiry  for  her  hus 
band.  "I  reckon  you'll  find  him  over 
ploughin'  for  Maggie."  A  statement  made 
in  the  most  matter-of-fact  manner. 

We  drove  over  to  another  claim  shack  a 
mile  or  so  from  the  Reeds',  where  Bob  was 
indeed  ploughing  for  Maggie.  To  him,  too, 
it  was  quite  a  matter  of  course. 

The  affinity  problem  in  this  country  really 
appeared  simple.  Mrs.  Reed  evidently  ac 
cepted  Maggie  as  a  natural  factor  in  the 
situation,  and  her  marital  relations  were 
not  disturbed  in  the  least,  as  long  as 
Bob  finished  his  own  ploughing  first.  That 


60  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

woman  was  truly  oriental  in  her  cast  of  mind. 

Maggie  Lane's  mother  and  brother  lived 
near  at  hand,  also.  One  brother,  Tom,  was 
Reed's  constant  companion.  Altogether  it 
was  a  perfectly  harmonious  arrangement. 

The  Lane  family  records  were  not  quite 
clear.  Acquaintance  revealed  that.  They 
all  seemed  to  have  a  penchant  for  leaving 
the  straight  and  narrow  path  for  the  broad 
highway  of  individual  choice.  Obviously 
Maggie's  position  did  not  affect  her  family, 
nor  her  social  standing  in  the  community. 

Whenever  I  drove  about  the  country  with 
out  Owen,  I  took  Charley  with  me  on  horse 
back.  Gates  were  hard  to  open,  and  my 
team  of  horses  was  not  thoroughly  broken. 
Besides,  there  were  always  the  possibilities 
of  the  unexpected  on  these  lonely  prairies.  I 
called  Charley  my  Knight  of  the  Garter. 
When  he  knew  in  advance  he  was  going  with 
me,  he  went  up  to  the  bunkhouse  "to  slick 
up."  If  it  chanced  to  be  summer,  he 
emerged  without  a  coat,  his  blue  shirt 
sleeves  held  up  by  a  pair  of  beribboned  pink 
garters,  a  pair  of  heavy  stamped  leather 


THE  GREAT  ADVENTURE         61 

cuffs  on  his  wrists,  and  a  heavy  stamped 
leather  collar  holding  his  neck  like  a  vise. 

I  suggested  one  morning  that  the  collar 
might  be  uncomfortably  warm.  He  met  my 
objection  with  scorn. 

"Hot,  Mrs.  Brook?  Why,  that  ain't  hot. 
You  see,  the  leather  kinda  ab-sorbs  the 
sweat  and  makes  it  nice  and  cool." 

One  day  we  were  out  to  take  the  washing 
to  Mrs.  Reed.  I  had  asked  Bob  to  take  it 
Saturday  night,  when  he  and  Tom  Lane  had 
"gone  over  home"  to  finish  that  ploughing. 
I  supposed  he  had  done  so,  but  when  he  came 
back  on  Monday,  he  said  he  had  "plumb  for 
got  it,  but  would  take  it  next  time." 

We  had  to  pass  through  Maggie's  claim  on 
the  way.  She  was  standing  at  her  door,  as 
we  stopped  to  open  the  gate.  There  was  no 
freshly  ploughed  ground  in  sight,  and  I  idly 
asked  if  she  had  finished  her  ploughing. 

"No,"  she  replied,  "I  kinda  looked  for  Bob 
over  Sunday  to  finish  it,  but  I  reckon  he 
couldn't  get  off.  I  wish  you'd  tell  him  to 
stop  here  the  next  time  he  goes  home." 

We  drove  on,  and  I  wondered  what  Maggie 


62  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

"reckoned"  he  couldn't  get  away  from, — the 
ranch  or  his  wife. 

I  gave  Mrs.  Reed  the  clothes  and  I  told 
her  Bob  had  forgotten  to  bring  them  over 
with  him  Saturday.  She  looked  at  me 
curiously. 

"Didn't  Bob  work  Sunday?" 

"No,"  I  replied,  "none  of  the  men  worked 
Sunday.  Tom  and  Bob  both  said  they  were 
going  home." 

Mrs.  Reed  frowned. 

"Oh,  I  suppose  Maggie  had  somethin'  she 
wanted  him  to  do." 

Charley  started  to  answer,  but  my  look 
stopped  him. 

'Til  have  your  clothes  ready  Saturday." 
Mrs.  Reed  slammed  the  gate  and  turned 
toward  the  house. 

"Gee,"  said  Charley,  riding  up  close  beside 
the  buggy,  "them  two  women'll  be  fightin' 
over  Bob  yet,  if  he  ain't  careful.  Why, 
that's  funny" — he  looked  at  me  question- 
ingly, — "Bob  wasn't  to  Maggie's,  either, 
was  he?" 

"No,"  I  answered,  "I  was  just  wondering 


THE  GREAT  ADVENTURE          63 

about  that  myself.  Perhaps  he  went  to 
town,  instead."  A  coyote  ran  out  of  a  gulch. 
Charley  with  a  whoop  started  in  pursuit,  and 
the  entire  incident  passed  from  my  mind. 

We  were  going  in  to  supper,  when  three 
men  drove  up  to  the  door.  Whenever 
strangers  appeared,  I  always  had  a  moment 
of  uncertainty  as  to  whether  they  were  to 
be  sent  to  the  bunkhouse  with  the  men,  or 
invited  to  our  own  table.  Instantaneous 
social  classification  is  rather  difficult  when 
there  are  no  distinguishing  external  signs. 
And  it  had  to  be  done  at  the  moment.  The 
men  asked  for  Owen. 

We  had  no  idea  who  they  were,  so  our 
conversation  during  supper  was  limited  to 
impersonal  topics,  such  as  the  present,  past 
and  future  weather,  the  condition  of  the 
range  and  stock — nothing  calculated  to 
offend  the  delicate  sensibilities  of  a  Gov 
ernor,  a  ranchman  or  an  ex-convict,  inas 
much  as  our  guests  might  come  under  any 
of  these  heads.  Entertaining  on  a  ranch  is 
democratic  in  the  extreme. 

They  went  out  with  Owen  after  supper. 


64  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

From  the  window  I  could  see  four  dim 
figures  sitting  on  their  heels  by  the  corral 
gate,  talking  earnestly. 

It  was  late  when  they  drove  away.  I  was 
putting  up  the  mail,  as  Owen  entered.  His 
announcement  drove  all  idea  of  the  Postal 
Laws  and  regulations  out  of  my  head. 

"Well,  they've  gone,  and  have  taken  Bob 
and  Tom  Lane  with  them." 

"Mercy!  what  for?  Who  were  they, 
anyhow?" 

"The  Sheriff  and  two  Pinkerton  men,"  he 
answered,  gravely.  "They  have  arrested 
Bob  and  Tom  for  the  hold-up." 

"Owen,"  I  gasped,  standing  up  so  sud 
denly  that  the  U.  S.  mail  flew  in  all  direc 
tions.  "You  don't  believe  they  were  the 
ones,  do  you?" 

"Not  for  a  minute,"  Owen  answered,  with 
conviction.  "And  I  told  them  so,  but  it 
seems  the  men  have  bad  records  and  the 
description  fits  them.  'A  tall  man,  with  a 
Southern  accent,  and  a  short,  slight,  smaller 
man/  So  they  arrested  them."  Owen  sat 
down.  "It's  absurd.  In  the  first  place, 


THE  GREAT  ADVENTURE         6S 

they  couldn't  have  gotten  to  the  railroad  in 
time  to  hold  up  the  limited.  They  didn't 
leave  here  until  nine  o'clock,  and  in  the  next 
place,  they  went  home." 

"But  they  didn't."  I  felt  suddenly  weak 
in  my  knees.  "I  took  the  clothes  over  to 
Mrs.  Reed,  and  both  she  and  Maggie  were 
wondering  why  they  hadn't  come." 

Owen  looked  at  me  in  blank  amazement, 
and  then  asked  why  on  earth  I  hadn't  told 
him. 

"Good  heavens,  Owen,  I  haven't  seen  you 
a  moment  alone.  And,  besides,  I  never  sup 
posed  it  made  any  difference  where  the  men 
went.  Hereafter  if  the  angel  Gabriel  comes 
to  work  for  us,  I  shall  insist  upon  knowing 
where  he  spends  his  nights.  Really,"  I 
began  to  laugh,  "you  know,  if  we  ever  leave 
this  ranch,  the  only  place  we  shall  feel  at 
home  is  in  the  penitentiary.  None  but  peo 
ple  with  'records'  and  'pasts'  will  interest 
us."  I  was  half  amused  and  wholly  excited, 
for  even  to  have  a  speaking  acquaintance 
with  the  leading  figures  in  a  hold-up  and 
pwrder  was  something  my  wildest  flight  of 


66  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

imagination  could  have  scarcely  pictured  a 
few  months  before.  Owen  was  really 
serious. 

"Well,  I  must  say,"  he  shook  his  head  and 
looked  down  at  the  floor,  "it  begins  to  look  as 
though  Bob  and  Tom  might  have  some 
trouble  proving  they  weren't  the  men.  It's 
serious  for  them,  since  they  weren't  at 
home.  The  description  certainly  fits  them." 
Owen  took  up  the  paper.  "  'One  man  about 
five  feet  eight  inches  high,  slender  and  light 
mustache,  wearing  old  clothes  and  a  rusty 
black  slouch  hat.  The  other  man  five  feet 
ten  inches  tall,  slender,  short,  black  mus 
tache,  about  forty  years  old,  spoke  with  a 
Southern  accent,  wore  an  old  black  suit  and 
an  old  striped  rubber  coat/  " 

"Go  on,"  I  said,  as  Owen  started  to  put  the 
paper  down;  "I  want  to  hear  it."  He  read 
on: 

"  The  men  were  supposed  to  have  boarded 
the  train  coming  from  Denver,  at  a  small 
station  this  side  of  Star.  The  Pullmans 
were  on  the  rear.  When  the  train  stopped 
at  the  station,  the  Pullman  conductor  went 


THE  GREAT  ADVENTURE         67 

out  on  the  back  platform  and  saw  two  men 
crouching  in  the  vestibule.  He  told  them  to 
get  off,  but  at  that  moment  the  train  started, 
and  they  rose  up,  covering  him  with  their 
revolvers.  One  got  behind  him,  holding  his 
gun  against  him,  the  other  in  front.  They 
handed  him  a  gunny-sack  and  made  him 
carry  it.  In  this  manner  they  entered  the 
body  of  the  car. 

"  'In  the  first  car  they  got  very  little 
plunder,  and  pushed  on  into  the  next.  As 
they  entered  the  second  sleeper,  they  met 
the  porter,  who  was  forced  to  elevate  his 
hands  and  precede  them.  While  they  were 
engaged  in  robbing  the  passengers  in  the 
second  Pullman,  the  train  conductor  entered, 
and  was  compelled  to  elevate  his  hands,  with 
the  rest. 

"  They  paused  at  one  berth  and  seemed 
very  much  incensed  that  the  woman  it  con 
tained  was  so  slow  in  handing  over  her 
valuables.  They  swore  and  were  very  im 
patient.  Suddenly,  a  man  in  the  next  berth 
thrust  his  head  out  between  the  curtains. 
He  had  a  revolver  in  his  hand  and  fired,  btrt 


68  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

instantly  another  shot  rang  out  from  the 
robber  in  the  rear,  and  the  man  sank  back 
in  his  berth. 

"'After  the  shooting,  the  robbers  ap 
peared  more  nervous  and  hurried.  When 
they  had  gone  through  the  car,  they  took 
the  gunny-sack  and  emptied  the  contents 
into  their  pockets.  One  of  the  robbers  pulled 
the  bell-rope,  but  evidently  not  hard  enough, 
for  the  train  continued  on  its  way.  Swear 
ing,  they  compelled  the  porter  and  two  con 
ductors  to  stand  out  on  the  platform  with 
them,  covered  by  their  revolvers,  until  the 
train  slowed  down  at  Paxton,  when  they 
swung  off  to  the  ground  and  disappeared  into 
these  vast  prairie  lands,  which  are  so 
sparsely  settled  one  can  drive  for  a  day  with 
out  seeing  a  person. 

"  'As  soon  as  the  train  stopped,  the  pas 
sengers  hurried  to  the  berth  of  the  man  who 
had  been  shot,  but  he  had  been  instantly 
killed. 

"'The  Sheriff  was  notified,  and  a  posse 
started  in  pursuit,  but  the  robbers  had 
vanished.' " 


THE  GREAT  ADVENTURE          69 

Owen  put  down  the  paper,  and  we  sat  up 
far  into  the  night  talking  it  over. 

Subsequently  our  ranch,  our  horses,  and 
Owen's  opinions  were  freely  quoted  in  the 
press.  Bob  and  Tom  were  positively  identi 
fied  by  the  three  trainmen  as  the  hold-ups. 
They  were  retained  a  week  in  jail,  and  then 
suddenly  released  on  "insufficient  proof." 

Owen  did  not  believe  in  point  of  time  they 
could  have  held  up  the  train,  for  he  had 
talked  to  Bob  that  Saturday  night  until 
after  nine  o'clock,  but  everybody,  including 
Owen,  held  them  capable  of  it.  The  point 
was  simply  that  they  had  not  happened  to 
be  there. 

Later  Bob  and  Tom  returned  to  the 
ranch,  incensed  at  their  arrest  and  deten 
tion,  but  no  one  ever  learned  where  they 
were  that  memorable  Saturday  night. 

Moreover,  the  men  who  held  up  the  train 
were  never  found,  and  again  one  of  those 
strange  tragedies  of  the  West  ended  in 
vagueness. 

I  was  struck  by  the  repetition  of  that 


70  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

phenomenon  "A  crime,  a  tragedy."  At  first 
indignation  and  an  earnest  attempt  to  find 
the  offenders  and  bring  them  to  justice,  then 
delay,  and  the  whole  affair  shoved  into  the 
background  by  something  newer. 

Life  here  seemed  to  flow  by  like  a  stream 
at  flood-tide.  Who  could  stem  that  current 
long  enough  to  catch  those  bits  of  human 
frailty  floating  on  the  surface,  or  follow 
them  down  stream  to  the  sea? 


A  GOVERNMENT  CONTRACT 

FROM  the  first,  I  had  been  conscious  of 
a  fascination  about  the  West  impos 
sible  to  describe.    Its  charm  was  too 
enigmatical  and  elusive  for  definition. 

There  was  a  suggestion  of  the  sea  in  that 
vast  circle  and  in  the  long,  undulations  of 
the  prairie,  as  though  great  waves  had  be 
come  solidified,  then  clothed  in  softest  green. 
No  sign  of  restless  movement  was  apparent 
in  those  billows  which  stretched  away  from 
the  mountains  into  the  vague  distance.  All 
was  still.  The  towering  mountain  itself 
was  the  symbol  of  infinite  peace  and  refit. 
Yet  there,  in  the  midst  of  that  unbroken 
serenity,  stood  a  cluster  of  buildings,  the 
center  of  the  greatest  activity,  where  life 
was  vital  and  thrilling  as  though  a  few 
human  beings  had  been  flung  through  space 
and  dropped  onto  those  silent  plains  to 
71 


72  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

work  out  the  age-long  fight  for  existence. 

Peace  and  conflict,  silence  and  sound, 
absence  of  life  and  life  in  its  most  complex 
form;  contrasts — everywhere  and  in  every 
thing — it  could  be  defined,  it  was  in  "con 
trasts"  that  the  fascination  of  the  West 
was  expressed. 

Ranch  life  might  be  difficult;  it  was  never 
commonplace.  The  mere  sight  of  a  lone 
horseman  on  a  distant  hill  suggested  greater 
possibilities  of  excitement  than  a  multitude 
of  people  in  a  city  street. 

Each  day  brought  so  many  new  experi 
ences,  some  of  comedy,  some  of  tragedy,  that 
I  began  to  look  for  them. 

After  the  Government  had  awarded  a  con 
tract  to  furnish  "150  horses  of  a  dark  bay 
color  for  cavalry  use"  our  life  became  dra 
matic,  with  the  riders  cast  in  the  leading 
roles. 

The  stage-setting  consisted  of  a  large 
circular  corral,  twelve  feet  high,  built 
of  heavy  pitch-pine  posts  and  three-inch 
planks  with  a  massive  snubbing  post  set 
in  the  center.  Since  there  was  "standing 


A  GOVERNMENT  CONTRACT       73 

room   only,"    cracks   were   at   a   premium. 

The  dramatis  personae  were  two  tall, 
slender-waisted  cow-punchers  who  walked 
with  a  slightly  rolling  gait,  due  to  extremely 
high-heeled  boots,  much  too  small  for  them. 
In  their  right  hands  they  carried  a  coiled 
rope  swinging  easily.  Their  costumes  were 
composed  of  cloth  or  corduroy  trousers, 
dark-colored  shirts,  nondescript  vests  of 
some  sort,  dark  blue  or  red  handkerchiefs 
knotted  loosely  about  their  necks,  expen 
sively-made  boots,  the  tops  of  which  were 
covered  by  the  legs  of  their  "pants" ;  spurs, 
of  course;  high-priced  Stetson  hats,  the 
crowns  creased  to  a  peak,  and  frequently 
encircled  by  the  skin  of  a  rattle-snake,  and 
exceedingly  soft  gauntlet-gloves.  It  was 
my  observation  that  the  old-time  cow- 
puncher  wore  gloves  at  all  times.  He  did 
remove  them  when  eating,  and,  I  presume, 
before  going  to  bed,  but  they  were  always 
in  evidence. 

The  "Star"  is  a  frightened,  snorting 
"broncho,"  or  unbroken  horse  which  for  the 
five  or  six  years  of  its  life  had  been  running 


74  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

looee.  Now  it  was  to  be  "busted."  It  is 
cut  out  from  the  bunch  and  run  into  the 
corral  and  the  gate  securely  fastened. 

One  of  the  men  stands  near  the  post,  the 
other  does  the  roping.  Facing  the  men,  the 
broncho  stands  still,  his  head  high,  his  eyes 
wild  and  full  of  fear.  An  abrupt  motion  by 
one  of  the  riders  starts  him  on  a  frantic  run 
around  and  around  in  a  circle.  A  sudden 
throw  of  the  rope  and  both  front  feet  are  in 
the  loop.  Quick  as  lightning  the  man  set 
tles  back  on  it,  both  front  legs  are  pulled  out 
from  under  the  horse  and  he  falls  on  his 
side;  the  helper  runs  to  his  head,  seizes  the 
muzzle  and  twists  it  straight  up,  thrusts  one 
knee  against  the  neck  and  holds  the  top  of 
the  head  to  the  ground.  The  roper  puts  two 
or  three  more  loops  above  the  front  hoofs, 
passes  the  rope,  now  doubled  forming  a  loop, 
between  the  legs,  to  one  of  the  hind  feet, 
then  pulls  on  the  end  that  he  has  all  the  time 
held.  This  action  draws  all  three  feet  to 
gether.  One  or  two  more  loops  about  them, 
a  hitch  and  the  horse  is  tied  so  that  it  is 
impossible  for  him  to  get  up.  While  the 


A  GOVERNMENT  CONTRACT       75 

broncho  lies  helpless,  the  saddle  and  bridle 
are  put  on,  a  large  handkerchief  passed 
under  the  straps  of  the  bridle  over  the  eyes 
and  made  fast.  The  rope  is  taken  off. 
Feeling  a  measure  of  freedom,  he  staggers 
to  his  feet  and  stands.  The  ^cinches  are 
drawn  veiy  tight,  the  rider  mounts,  gives  a 
gharp  order  to  "let  him  go,"  the  man  on  the 
ground  pulls  the  handkerchief  from  the  eyes 
of  the  horse,  and  jumps  aside. 

For  a  moment  the  broncho  stands  dazed, 
then  jumps,  throws  his  head  between  his 
front  legs  almost  to  the  ground,  squeals, 
humps  his  back  and  pitches  around  and 
around  the  corral  in  a  vain  attempt  to  rid 
himself  of  the  fearsome  thing  on  his  back. 
The  circular  corral,  limited  in  space,  gives 
little  opportunity  to  succeed;  the  rider  has 
the  advantage.  The  horse  stops  pitching 
and  runs  frantically  about  the  corral,  at 
length  tiring  himself  out.  Dripping  with 
sweat,  trembling  from  fear  and  excitement, 
he  comes  to  a  slow  trot.  The  gate  is  thrown 
open.  Making  a  dash  for  freedom,  he 
plunges  through  the  outside  corrals,  the 


76  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

horseman  or  "circler"  close  beside  him,  try 
ing  to  keep  between  the  half-crazed  broncho 
and  any  object  he  might  run  into.  The 
horse  bolts  out  into  the  openj  his  is  the 
advantage  now,  and  he  makes  the  rider  ride. 
He  bucks  this  way  and  that,  twisting,  turn 
ing,  jumping  and  running,  the  man  on  his 
back  so  racked  and  shaken  it  seems  incred 
ible  that  his  body  can  hold  together.  They 
tear  out  over  the  prairie  in  a  wild  race,  far 
off  over  the  hills,  out  of  sight  now.  After  a 
time  they  come  back  on  a  walk.  The  broncho 
has  been  busted — the  act  has  ended. 

Should  the  horse  rear  and  throw  himself 
backward,  there  is  the  greatest  danger  that 
the  man  may  be  caught  under  him  and 
killed,  it  happens  so  quickly,  but  these  quiet, 
diffident  chaps  are  absolutely  fearless,  past 
masters  in  the  art  of  riding,  facing  death 
each  time  they  ride  a  new  horse,  but  facing 
it  with  the  supreme  courage  of  the  common 
place,  sitting  calmly  in  the  saddle,  racked, 
shaken,  jolted  until  at  times  the  blood 
streams  from  their  nose,  yet  after  a  short 
rest  the  rider  "took  up  the  next  one"  quite 


A  GOVERNMENT  CONTRACT       77 

as   though    nothing   at   all    had    happened. 

All  the  horses  had  to  be  broken  and  then 
made  ready  for  the  inspection  of  the  Gov 
ernment  officials,  and  the  boys  were  working 
with  them  early  and  late. 

It  was  an  unusual  experience  to  live  in 
daily  association  with  these  men,  in  whom 
were  combined  characteristics  of  the 
Knights  of  the  Round  Table  and  those  pecu 
liar  to  the  followers  of  Jesse  James. 

In  Douglas,  Wyoming,  there  stands  a 
monument  erected  by  the  friends  of  a  local 
character  who,  curiously,  bore  the  same  sur 
name  as  the  famous  explorer  for  whom 
Pike's  Peak  was  named.  Chisled  out  of  the 
solid  granite  these  opposing  traits  are  epi 
tomized  in  this  unique  epitaph: 

"Underneath  this  stone  in  eternal  rest 
Sleeps  the  wildest  one  of  the  wayward  west; 
He  was  gambler  and  sport  and  cowboy,  too, 
And  he  led  the  pace  in  an  outlaw  crew; 
He  was  sure  on  the  trigger  and  staid  to  the  end, 
But  he  was  never  known  to  quit  on  a  friend ; 
In  the  relations  of  death  all  mankind  is  alike, 
But  in  life  there  was  only  one  George  W.  Pike." 

Strange,  contrasting  personalities — in  awe 
of  nobody,  quite  as  ready  to  converse  famil- 


78  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

iarly  with  the  President  as  with  Owen,  but 
probably  preferring  Owen  because  they 
knew  he  was  a  fine  horseman. 

Persons  and  things  outside  their  own 
world  held  but  slight  interest  for  them.  At 
first  I  had  a  hazy  idea  that  I  might  be  the 
medium  through  which  a  glimpse  of  the  out 
side  world  would  broaden  the  narrow  limits 
of  their  lives.  I  planned  to  get  books  for 
them  and  to  arrange  a  reading  room,  but  my 
dream  was  soon  shattered  upon  discovering 
that  this  broader  view  possessed  no  charm. 
Indeed,  when  I  offered  to  teach  Joe  to  read 
he  refused  my  offer  without  a  moment's 
hesitation,  firmly  announcing  "I  ain't  goin' 
to  learn  to  read,  'cause  then  I'd  have  to!" 
"Why,  Mrs.  Brook,"  he  added,  looking  with 
scorn  at  the  book  I  held  in  my  hand,  "I 
wouldn't  be  bothered  the  way  you  are  for 
nothin',  havin'  to  read  all  them  books  in 
there,"  nodding  his  head  in  the  direction  of 
our  cherished  library.  This  was  certainly  a 
fresh  point  of  view  regarding  education. 
About  the  same  time  I  found  that  the  Sears 
and  Roebuck  or  Montgomery  Ward  catalogue 


A  GOVERNMENT  CONTRACT       79 

might  be  fittingly  called  the  Bible  of  the 
plains.  Night  after  night  the  boys  pored 
over  them  absorbed  in  the  illustrations,  of 
hats,  gloves,  boots  and  saddles,  the  things 
most  dear  to  their  hearts,  for  on  their  rid 
ing  equipment  alone  they  spent  a  small 
fortune. 

Improvident  and  generous,  however  great 
their  vices  might  be,  their  lives  were  free 
from  petty  meanness;  the  prairies  had 
seemed  to 

"Give  them  their  own  deep  breadth  of  view 
The  largeness  of  the  cloudless  blue." 

The  religion  of  the  cow-puncher?  My  im 
pression  was  that  he  had  none,  for  certainly 
he  subscribed  to  no  conventional  creed  or 
dogma.  Yet  what  was  it  that  gave  him  a 
code  of  honor  which  made  cheating  or  a  lie 
an  unforgivable  offense  and  a  man  guilty  of 
either  an  outcast  scorned  by  his  associates, 
and  what  was  it  that  would  have  made  him 
go  without  bread  or  shelter  that  a  woman 
or  child  might  not  suffer? 

Rough  and  gentle,  brutal  and  tender,  good 
and  bad,  not  angel  at  one  time  and  devil  at 


80  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

another,  but  rather  saint  and  sinner  at  the 
same  time.  Little  of  religious  influence 
came  into  his  life,  and  as  for  Bibles — there 
were  none. 

I  remember  the  story  of  a  Bishop  who 
was  travelling  through  the  West  and  was 
asked  to  hold  service  in  one  of  the  larger 
towns.  When  he  arrived  he  found  that  he 
had  left  his  own  Bible  on  the  train,  so  he 
sent  the  hotel  clerk  out  to  borrow  one. 
After  some  time  the  man  returned  with  a 
Bible,  explaining  to  the  Bishop  that  it  was 
the  only  one  in  town.  "I  went  everywhere 
and  finally  got  this  one.  It's  the  one  they 
use  at  the  Court  House  to  swear  on !" 

The  cow-puncher,  however,  could  swear 
without  any  assistance,  for  usually  "cussin' " 
formed  a  very  necessary  part  of  his  conver 
sation.  But  as  I  sat  at  my  window  sewing 
one  summer  morning  I  heard  a  violent  argu 
ment  at  the  corral  between  Fred  and  a  new 
"hay-hand"  from  Kansas.  Fred's  voice  was 
decisive. 

"That's  all  right,  but  you  cut  out  that 
cussin'  here — the  Missus'  window's  open, 


A  GOVERNMENT  CONTRACT       81 

and  she'll  hear  you."  And  the  heart  of 
"the  Missus"  warmed  to  her  Knight  of  the 
Corral. 

There  was  another  incident,  the  true  sig 
nificance  of  which  I  did  not  know  until  three 
years  after  it  occurred,  when  the  foreman 
of  the  L —  ranch  met  Owen  in  Denver  and 
inquired  for  me,  adding: 

"Well,  I'll  never  forget  Mrs.  Brook.  Do 
you  remember  the  day  we  was  shippin'  them 
white  faces  from  the  Junction  about  three 
years  ago,  when  you  and  Mrs.  Brook  hap 
pened  to  come  along  and  stopped  to  watch 
us?  Well,  one  of  the  best  men  I  had  was 
brandin'  a  calf  when  it  kicked  him  and  he 
swore  at  it  proper ;  all  of  a  sudden  he  looked 
up  and  saw  Mrs.  Brook  and  another  lady 
standin'  on  that  high  platform  by  the  yards 
watchin'  us.  He  was  so  plumb  beat,  he 
threw  down  his  brandin'  iron,  took  up  his 
hat,  walked  across  the  street  to  a  saloon  and 
began  drinkin'  and  stayed  drunk  for  three 
days,  and  there  I  was,  short-handed,  with  a 
train-load  of  cows  and  calves  to  ship." 

Contrast  again — chivalry   carried   to  the 


82  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

extent  of  being  drunk  for  three  days  because 
he  had  sworn  before  a  woman ! 

The  horses  were  all  being  ridden  and 
trained  for  the  inspection  which  was  soon  to 
take  place.  Each  man  had  his  own  "string," 
those  he  had  broken,  and  every  day  they 
were  put  through  their  paces.  When  in 
spected,  they  had  to  be  walked,  trotted  and 
run  up  and  down  before  the  officers,  stopped 
instantly,  and  the  veterinarian  was  supposed 
to  put  his  ear  to  their  chests  to  see  if  their 
breathing  was  regular  and  their  hearts 
sound.  Now,  Western  horses  are  not  accus 
tomed  to  having  their  hearts  tested,  and  I 
noticed  that  while  the  riders  did  everything 
else  that  was  required,  they  tacitly  agreed 
"to  let  the  vet  do  his  own  listnin'." 

The  day  that  the  Army  officers  were  to 
arrive,  as  Owen  was  getting  ready  to  drive 
over  to  the  station  to  meet  them,  I  remarked 
casually  that  I  hoped  nothing  would  happen 
to  upset  their  peace  of  mind,  as  it  was  very 
important  that  the  honorable  representatives 
of  the  Government  be  kept  in  a  good  humor. 

The  house  was  still  in  an  unsettled  con- 


A  GOVERNMENT  CONTRACT       83 

dition  but  for  the  time  being  it  had  been 
brought  into  sufficient  order  to  insure  their 
comfort.  The  larder  was  stocked  with  the 
best  the  markets  afforded  and  the  horses 
were  being  "gentled"  daily. 

When  guests  came  on  the  train  our  din 
ner  might  be  served  at  any  hour  up  to  ten 
o'clock  at  night  for  after  their  arrival  at 
the  station  there  was  the  sixteen  mile  drive 
to  the  ranch — and  anything  might  happen. 
It  was  late  that  particular  night  when  I 
heard  them  at  the  meadow  gate.  I  couldn't 
understand  why  they  stopped  so  long.  There 
were  sounds  of  confusion  and  as  they  en 
tered  the  house  one  of  the  officers  held  up 
a  finger  dripping  with  blood,  the  Colonel's 
hat  was  awry,  his  clothes  covered  with  mud, 
and  they  all  appeared  agitated  and  excited. 
I  could  not  imagine  what  had  happened. 
Then  they  all  began  to  tell  me  at  once. 

Upon  reaching  the  meadow  gate  the  Lieu 
tenant  who  acted  as  bookkeeper  jumped  out 
to  open  it  but  failed  to  return  after  they  had 
driven  through.  Upon  investigation  they 
found  he  had  caught  his  finger  between  the 


84  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

wire  loop  and  the  post  and  was  held  fast. 
They  extricated  him  from  his  dilemma  and 
drove  on.  It  was  very  dark  and  upon  reach 
ing  the  house  as  the  august  Colonel  des 
cended  from  the  wagon,  he  tripped  over  a 
pile  of  stones  lying  near  the  gate,  fell  down 
and  just  escaped  breaking  his  neck.  I  tried 
to  smile  and  yet  be  sympathetic — but  I  had 
a  vision  of  Owen  with  "one  hundred  fifty 
horses  of  a  dark  bay  color"  on  his  hands  if 
the  good  humor  of  the  officers  was  not  re 
stored  before  morning. 

They  were  shown  to  their  rooms  and  I 
prayed  nothing  would  happen  to  the  Vet 
erinarian,  who  had  so  far  remained  intact. 

The  Colonel  and  the  Lieutenant  had  come 
down  stairs.  We  were  all  in  the  library 
waiting  for  the  Doctor  before  going  in  to 
dinner,  when  we  heard  a  fearful  crash.  We 
rushed  into  the  hall  to  see  the  poor  man  sit 
ting  on  the  steps  holding  both  hands  to  his 
head.  He  was  very  tall  and,  coming  down 
the  narrow  winding  stairs,  had  struck  his 
head  on  an  overhanging  projection  which  he 
had  failed  to  observe.  His  injury  was  more 


A  GOVERNMENT  CONTRACT       85 

uncomfortable  than  serious  and  had  quite  a 
cheering  effect  on  his  two  companions,  who 
began  to  chaff  him  about  "taking  off  an  inch 
or  two"  so  by  the  time  dinner  was  over  they 
were  all  in  high  spirits. 

The  following  morning  at  nine  the  inspec 
tion  began.  Each  horse  was  brought  out, 
looked  over  and  measured  to  see  that  he 
came  up  to  the  stipulated  number  of 
"hands".  If  he  passed  he  was  immediately 
ridden. 

Each  of  the  men  rode  the  horses  he  had 
broken.  First  the  horse  was  walked  up  and 
down  between  the  blacksmith-shop  and  the 
corral,  then  trotted  and  then  run,  after 
which  his  lungs  and  breathing  were  tested 
and  if  satisfactory  he  was  accepted. 

Every  time  a  man  got  on  to  ride,  I  was 
conscious  of  a  feeling  of  great  uncertainty. 
The  horses  looked  quiet  enough  and  were 
fairly  gentle,  but  Owen  and  I  knew  that  the 
slightest  variation  in  the  manner  of  mount 
ing  or  "touching  them  up"  might  cause  them 
to  go  through  a  few  movements  not  required 
by  the  United  States  Government. 


86  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

As  it  was,  all  those  we  had  expected  to 
buck  behaved  like  lambs,  while  those  which 
had  been  considered  fairly  well  broken  did 
everything  from  bucking  to  snorting  and 
blowing  foam  all  over  the  Veterinarian  when 
he  attempted  to  examine  their  teeth  and  test 
their  lungs. 

For  three  days  the  inspection  went  on, 
each  day  more  interesting  than  the  last, 
until  all  the  horses  had  been  examined  and 
out  of  the  number  the  necessary  one  hun 
dred  and  fifty  accepted  and  branded  U.  S. 

As  the  bunch  of  horses  headed  for  Denver 
was  being  driven  off  the  ranch,  Fred  looked 
after  them  reffectively — 

"If  them  sodjers  can  ride,  it'll  be  all 
right,"  he  remarked,  "but  if  they  go  to 
puttin'  tenderfeet  on  them  bronchs,  they'll 
land  in  Kingdom-come  before  they  ever  hit 
the  saddle." 


VI 
A  VARIETY  OF  RUNAWAYS 

LIFE  in  any  primitive,  sparsely  settled 
country  is  fraught  with  adventure. 
It  is  the  element  which  gives  zest  to 
everyday  affairs  and  which  lifts  existence 
above   the   commonplace,   but  since   every 
thing  has  its  price,  the  price  of  untram 
melled  living  must  often  be  paid  in  discom 
fort  and  inconvenience. 

To  us,  and  to  many  others,  abounding 
health  and  freedom  were  ample  compensa 
tions  for  a  few  annoying  circumstances  but 
with  our  guests  it  was  a  more  serious  con 
sideration.  After  a  few  experiences  we  be 
gan  to  discourage  the  visits  of  those  unfitted 
by  nature  and  temperament  for  "roughing 
it". 

We  could   not  control   the  elements  nor 
untoward  events.    Fate  had  such  an  invari 
able  custom  of  upsetting  and  rearranging  all 
87 


88  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

of  our  most  carefully  laid  plans  that  when 
friends,  especially  "tenderfeet",  arrived,  we 
had  a  premonition  that  before  they  departed 
something  would  happen.  It  never  failed. 

In  the  house  our  guests  were  exempt  from 
anxiety  and  discomfort,  but  no  one  cared  to 
stay  indoors  when  a  dazzling  world  of  blue, 
green  and  gold  lay  just  outside,  and  the  un 
expected  was  no  regarder  of  persons.  A 
cloud-burst  was  just  as  apt  to  descend  upon 
the  unsuspecting  head  of  a  delicate,  care 
fully  nurtured  old  lady  as  was  an  indiscrim- 
inating  rattlesnake  to  frighten  some  timid 
soul  into  hysterics. 

Everyone  who  came  to  the  ranch  wanted 
to  ride,  those  knowing  least  about  horses 
being  the  most  insistent,  and  not  wishing  to 
take  any  chances,  at  first  we  gave  them 
Billy,  gentle,  trustworthy  Billy,  who,  when 
running  loose,  could  be  caught  by  a  man  on 
foot  and  ridden  into  the  corral  with  a  hand 
kerchief  around  his  neck  instead  of  a  bridle. 
We  would  start  out,  the  tenderfoot  joyously 
"off  for  a  horseback  ride,"  and  the  next  thing 
we  knew  he  would  be  off  the  horse  doubled 


A  VARIETY  OF  RUNAWAYS       89 

up  under  a  fence  or  lying  flat  on  the  prairie, 
while  Billy  peacefully  nibbled  grass.  No  one 
could  explain  it  unless  the  uninitiated  had 
lost  a  stirrup  and  had  unwittingly  given  the 
horse  a  dig  in  the  ribs  which  was  imme 
diately  resented — so  even  Billy  was  disquali 
fied. 

The  truth  was,  none  of  our  horses  was 
sufficiently  well  broken  for  the  inexperienced 
horseman  to  ride  or  drive.  They  behaved 
very  decently  until  something  occurred, 
which  was  out  of  the  ordinary,  and  then  the 
reaction  was  most  sudden  and  disastrous. 

With  the  stock  on  the  ranch  we  had  ac 
quired  about  four  hundred  horses,  most  of 
which  had  never  been  handled  and  were  run 
ning  loose  on  the  range.  Before  they  were 
of  any  use  or  value  they  had  to  be  broken 
and  Owen  felt  that  it  was  one  of  the  most 
important  things  to  be  done.  Consequently, 
many  of  the  horses  were  broken  to  drive  in 
the  hay  field,  the  broncho  hitched  up  with  a 
gentle  horse,  and  put  onto  the  rake  or  mow 
ing  machine — many  were  the  runaways. 

Charley  was  leisurely  by  nature.  He  never 


90  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

hurried  either  in  speech  or  movement.  Owen 
and  I  were  in  the  office  one  morning  when  he 
strolled  around  the  house  and  up  to  the  door. 

"Mis-ter  Brook,"  he  drawled,  "Ja-ne  and 
Maud  are  running  away  with  the  mow-ing 
machine  down  in  the  timber —  they  throw-ed 
Windy  off  the  seat,"  but  before  he  got  the 
last  word  out,  his  listener  was  down  the 
steps,  over  the  fence  and  on  his  way  toward 
the  creek  where  Maud  and  Jane  were  tearing 
through  the  timber  leaving  parts  of  the 
mowing  machine  on  stumps  and  fallen  logs, 
while  Charley  looked  after  him  in  mild  sur 
prise.  The  horses  were  brought  to  an  abrupt 
stop  when  one  tried  to  go  on  one  side  of  a 
tree  and  the  other  on  the  opposite  side. 

There  was  a  beautiful  black  horse, 
"Toledo",  that  refused  to  allow  anyone  to 
come  near  him  but  Owen  or  Bill,  and  there 
was  also  a  new  man  on  the  ranch  who  so 
constantly  boasted  of  his  ability  to  handle 
bronchos  the  boys  had  dubbed  him  "Windy". 

Windy  concluded  one  day  that  he  would 
harness  Toledo  alone.  There  were  violent 
sounds  in  the  stable,  snorts,  shouts,  thumps, 


A  VARIETY  OF  RUNAWAYS       91 

and  Windy  sailed  through  the  open  door  and 
landed  on  a  conveniently  placed  pile  of 
manure,  frightened  to  death  but  unhurt. 

Bill  was  furious. 

"What'd  you  do  to  him,  anyhow?"  he 
stormed  after  roping  Toledo  who  had  broken 
his  halter  and  was  running  loose  in  the 
corral. 

"I  didn't  do  nothin'  to  him,"  protested 
Windy.  "I  just  crope  up  and  retched  over 
and  tetched  him  and  he  begun  to  snort  and 
cave  'round." 

"Course  you  didn't  do  nothin',  you  couldn't 
do  nothin'  if  you  tried.  You'd  better  go  back 
to  town  where  you  belong,  'stead  a  stayin' 
out  here  spoilin'  good  horses."  Bill's  choler 
was  rising.  "You  don't  know  nothin'  neither, 
you're  jest  a  bone  head,  your  spine's  jest 
growed  up  and  haired  over."  And,  leading 
the  subdued  Toledo,  Bill  disappeared  into  the 
stable. 

When  the  team  that  Owen  reserved  for  his 
own  use  had  passed  the  kicking  and  lunging 
stage  and  I  had  become  sufficiently  confident 
to  look  at  the  landscape  instead  of  watching 


92  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

their  ears,  he  usually  concluded  they  were 
"pretty  well  broken"  and  that  he  must  try 
out  a  new  one.  This  trying  out  process  went 
on  indefinitely,  for  Owen's  New  England  con 
science  gave  him  no  peace  apparently  while 
an  unbroken  horse  remained  in  his  posses 
sion.  It  was  a  form  of  duty. 

When  we  had  guests  we  used,  what  my 
husband  was  pleased  to  call,  a  gentle  team, 
one  that  started  off  decorously  with  all  their 
feet  on  the  ground  instead  of  in  the  air,  but 
one  day  when  we  were  expecting  some 
friends  from  Wyoming  he  could  not  resist 
driving  a  new  pair  of  beautiful  bay  horses 
when  we  went  to  meet  them.  I  remained 
behind. 

The  dinner  hour  passed  and  no  Owen;  ad 
ditional  hours  went  by  and  late  at  night  he 
came  in  dusty,  dirty  and  scratched. 

In  response  to  a  perfect  volley  of  questions 
he  explained  that  he  was  all  right,  but  the 
Lawtons  had  telegraphed  they  had  been  de 
tained,  and  then  he  added,  as  quite  an  unim 
portant  detail,  that  "the  horses  had  run 
away".  He  had  the  expression  of  a  fond  and 


A  VARIETY  OF  RUNAWAYS       93 

indulgent  parent,  and  as  he  did  not  rise  to 
the  defense  of  his  pet  team  when  I  called 
them  "miserable  brutes"  I  knew  his  pride,  at 
least,  had  suffered. 

"You  see,"  he  resumed,  "your  new  sewing 
machine  and  some  other  freight  was  at  the 
station,  so  when  I  found  the  Lawtons  were 
not  coming  I  thought  I'd  bring  it  over.  I 
had  the  crystal  clock,  too."  Owen  looked  so 
sheepish  I  had  to  laugh,  although  the  clock 
had  been  a  wedding  present  which  we  had 
sent  up  to  the  jeweler  to  be  regulated. 

"Is  it  smashed?" 

"Oh,  no,"  he  reassured  me,  "but  I  don't 
know  how  well  it  will  run.  I  got  out  to  close 
the  gate  beyond  the  railroad  when  a  con 
founded  freight  engine  whistled  and  the 
horses  started.  I  was  holding  the  reins  in 
my  hand,  of  course,  and  tried  to  climb  in  the 
back  of  the  wagon,  but  couldn't  make  it  on 
account  of  the  load.  I  ran  along  the  side 
until  the  horses  went  so  fast  I  fell  down  and 
when  they  began  to  drag  me  I  let  go  of  the 
reins.  They  ran  all  over  that  inclosure,  the 
wagon  upset  and  canned  tomatoes,  sewing 


94  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

machine  and  crystal  clock  were  strewn 
everywhere.  I  caught  the  horses  finally,  but 
the  wagon  was  smashed  so  I  had  to  walk 
back  to  Becker's,  get  his  wagon  and  pick  up 
all  the  freight — that's  what  delayed  me.  I'm 
dreadfully  sorry  about  the  sewing  machine 
and  the  clock,  but  I  don't  believe  they  are 
much  hurt." 

He  was  very  contrite,  was  my  husband, 
but  it  didn't  last  long,  that  sense  of  duty  was 
too  insistent.  A  very  short  time  after,  he 
was  alone,  driving  another  team,  with  a 
horse  he  had  just  bought,  tied  to  the  tug. 
The  new  horse,  frightened  at  a  dead  animal 
in  the  lane,  jumped,  broke  the  tug,  plunged 
forward,  pulled  the  neck  yoke  off,  the  buggy 
tongue  stuck  into  the  ground  as  the  horses 
ran,  the  buggy  heaved  up  in  the  air  and 
pitched  Owen  out.  He  landed  so  close  to  a 
fence  post  his  head  was  scratched,  but  he 
might  have  been  killed.  As  long  as  he  had 
escaped,  this  runaway  had  its  amusing  side, 
too.  He  was  bringing  home  a  quantity  of 
china  nest-eggs  which  followed  when  he  was 
thrown  out,  and  he  said  for  a  minute  it  fairly 


A  VARIETY  OF  RUNAWAYS       95 

snowed  nest-eggs;  the  ground  was  white 
with  them. 

Owen  and  his  horses!  I  never  could  de 
cide  whether  it  was  more  nerve-racking  to 
go  with  him  or  stay  behind,  so  I  usually  took 
the  chance  and  went.  The  experiences  we 
had !  I  wonder  we  ever  survived  that  horse- 
breaking  period,  but  only  once  did  we  face 
a  fate  from  which  there  seemed  only  one 
chance  in  a  thousand  of  escaping  with  our 
lives. 

We  were  driving  a  buckskin  horse  Owen 
had  just  bought  and  a  newly  broken  mare, 
a  handsome,  high  spirited  creature  called 
Beauty.  She  danced  and  she  pranced7  and 
forged  ahead  of  the  new  horse  which  became 
nervous  and  excited  in  trying  to  keep  up  with 
her. 

We  were  going  up  a  long  hill.  Beauty  was 
pulling  and  tugging  on  the  bit  when  suddenly 
she  gave  a  toss  to  her  head  and  to  our  horror 
we  saw  the  bridle  fall  back  around  her  neck. 
The  bit  had  broken.  Like  a  flash  she  was  off, 
the  other  horse  runningwith  her.  Owen  spoke 
to  them.  He  wound  the  reins  about  his  arms 


96  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

and  pulled  on  them  with  all  his  strength. 

At  the  top  of  the  hill  there  was  a  fairly 
level  space  where  Owen  tried  to  circle  them, 
hoping  to  tire  them  out,  but  he  had  no  con 
trol  over  Beauty  and  she  wheeled  about 
starting  back  over  the  road  we  had  come,  the 
buggy  bouncing  and  swaying  behind.  There 
was  a  fence  corner  with  an  old  post  standing 
about  ten  feet  from  it.  The  horses  headed 
straight  for  it.  I  closed  my  eyes,  expecting 
that  we  would  be  wrecked,  but  they  turned 
and  raced  across  a  gulch,  the  buggy  lurched, 
tipped,  struck  one  side  and  then  the  other, 
but  by  a  miracle  did  not  upset. 

I  saw  that  Owen  was  trying  to  head  them 
into  a  fence  and  braced  myself  for  the  shock, 
realizing  that  he  hoped  to  entangle  them  in 
the  barbed  wire  and  so  throw  them,  but  just 
as  we  reached  it  Beauty  veered  to  one  side 
almost  overturning  the  buggy.  We  were  so 
close  the  skirt  of  Owen's  fur  coat  caught  on 
the  barbs  and  was  instantly  torn  to  ribbons 
and  we  heard  the  vibrating  "ping"  of  the 
wire  along  its  entire  length  as  the  wheels 
/struck  the  fence. 


A  VARIETY  OF  RUNAWAYS       97 

On  and  on  the  maddened  horses  raced,  up 
hills,  down  long  slopes,  through  gulches  in 
which  it  seemed  we  must  be  wrecked,  until 
at  length  we  reached  the  crest  of  a  hill  at 
the  bottom  of  which,  angling  with  the  fence, 
ran  a  deep  gulch  with  high  cut  banks.  We 
knew  that  if  the  frantic  horses  reached  the 
edge  of  that  bank  at  the  rate  we  were  going 
there  was  no  escape  for  us  and  we  should 
plunge  over  the  embankment  with  the 
horses.  To  jump  was  impossible.  I  was  in 
despair,  realizing  that  Owen,  pulling  on  the 
horses  with  all  his  might,  was  nearly  ex 
hausted. 

"Owen,  isn't  there  something  I  can  do?" 
It  was  the  first  time  a  word  had  been  spoken. 

"Pull  on  the  Buckskin,"  he  answered 
quickly. 

I  leaned  forward  and  seized  the  rein  with 
both  hands  as  far  down  as  I  could  reach  and 
threw  myself  back  with  all  my  weight.  The 
Buckskin  was  pulled  back  on  his  haunches, 
Beauty  stopped.  Owen  handed  me  the  reins, 
another  moment  he  was  at  their  heads  call 
ing  to  me  to  jump.  In  that  instant  before 


98  A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

jumping  I  lived  an  eternity,  for  if  the  horaes 
had  started  again  I  should  have  gone  to  cer 
tain  death  alone. 

I  was  so  weak  with  fright  and  sudden  re 
lief  when  I  felt  the  firm  earth  under  my  feet 
I  could  scarcely  stand  but  I  had  to  get  to  the 
Buckskin's  head  and  hold  on  to  him,  for 
Owen  had  his  hands  full  with  Beauty,  who 
began  to  rear  and  plunge.  It  was  no  time 
for  nerves.  The  horses  were  finally  un 
hitched.  Owen  led  Beauty  and  I,  the  Buck 
skin.  Leaving  the  buggy  on  the  edge  of  that 
yawning  gulch,  we  walked  the  five  miles  back 
to  the  ranch. 


VII 
THE  MEASURE  OF  A  MAN 

THE  Bohms  had  gone.    The  last  load 
of   furniture,    upon   which   old    Bohm 
perched  like  an   ill-omened  bird,  had 
disappeared  through  the  gate  on  the  top  of 
the  hill.    At  last,  after  six  months  of  vexa 
tion  and  trouble,  Owen  and  I  could  live  our 
own  life  and  run  the  ranch  without  inter 
ference. 

Bohm  had  tried  to  wriggle  out  of  every 
clause  in  his  contract.  He  had  delayed  gath 
ering  and  turning  over  the  stock  by  every 
means  and  had  invented  a  thousand  excuses 
for  staying  on  from  week  to  week.  It  had 
made  it  very  difficult  and  had  exasperated 
Owen.  If  he  hadn't  been  wise  and  patient 
beyond  words,  Bohm's  bones  long  before 
would  have  mingled  with  those  of  his  re 
puted  victims  in  the  old  root  cellar.  I  had  a 
different  end  planned  for  him  each  day,  but 
99 


100          A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

none  seemed  really  fitting.  Owen  had  gone 
on  in  his  own  way,  however,  insisting  upon 
every  part  of  the  contract  being  fulfilled  and 
reducing  Bohm  to  impotent  rage  by  his  quiet 
firmness. 

Mrs.  Bohm  had  recovered  from  her  "faint 
ing  spells"  and  her  husband  was  furious  to 
think  he  had  sold  the  ranch.  In  desperation 
he  finally  sent  to  San  Francisco  for  his 
brother,  who  was  a  lawyer,  to  see  if  there 
was  any  possibility  of  getting  out  of  the  con 
tract.  The  "Judge"  was  a  nice  old  chap,  who 
looked  like  an  amiable  Mormon  with  a  long 
beard.  He  soon  settled  the  question. 

"Why,  Jim,  you  wanted  to  sell  out,  you 
signed  the  contract  and  you  have  your 
money.  You'll  have  to  stay  with  your  bar 
gain  now,  whether  you  like  it  or  not." 

We  always  remembered  him  kindly  for  this 
and  for  a  story  he  told.  We  had  been  dis 
cussing  the  Chinese  as  servants  and  he  said:; 

"Well,  I  had  one  for  two  years,  but  I  don't 
want  any  more.  I  want  to  know  what  I'm 
eating  and  with  those  heathen  you  are  never; 
sure. 


THE  MEASURE  OF  A  MAN       101 

"It  had  been  raining  very  hard  one  day 
when  Wong  came  to  me  in  the  afternoon  and 
said: 

"  'Judge,  him  laining  outside,  me  gottee 
no  meat  for  dinner/ 

"I  told  him  that  we  would  do  without  meat 
for  it  was  raining  too  hard  for  anyone  to  go 
out  who  didn't  have  to.  Wong  looked  de 
jected  for  he  liked  meat.  He  turned  to  go 
out  of  the  room,  when  his  eyes  fell  on  the 
cat.  His  face  brightened  with  a  sudden  in 
spiration. 

"  'Have  meat  for  dinner!    KiU'em  cat!' 

"Kill  the  cat!  What  on  earth  do  you 
mean? 

"  'Less,  kill'em  cat/  he  repeated  in  a  mat 
ter  of  fact  tone,  'him  sick  anyhow.' " 

We  had  asked  the  Bohms  to  take  their 
meals  with  us,  but  only  Mrs.  Bohm  came  to 
our  table.  Bohm  preferred  to  eat  with  the 
men.  We  suspected  that  he  was  trying  to 
cause  trouble.  Charley  unconsciously  con 
firmed  our  suspicions.  He  was  always  con 
versational  and  seized  the  opportunity  to  talk 
while  fixing  my  window  screen. 


102          A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

"Say,  Mrs.  Brook,  you'd  orter  seen  Bill  this 
mornin'.  He  was  eat  in*  flapjacks  to  beat  time 
and  was  just  reachin'  for  more,  when  old 
Bohm,  with  that  mean  way  of  his,  began 
slammin'  Mr.  Brook.  He  was  sayin'  you  folks 
thought  you  was  too  good  to  eat  in  the  kit 
chen  with  us  common  fellers  and  had  to  have 
a  separate  dinin'  room,  when  Bill  just  riz  up 
out  of  his  chair  so  sudden  it  went  over  back 
wards,  and  believe  me,  his  eyes  had  sparks  in 
'em  when  he  came  back  at  the  old  man. 

"  Tain't  that  the  Brooks  think  that  they're 
too  good,  but  there's  some  folks  too  stinkin* 
common  for  anybody  to  eat  with' — and  out 
of  the  door  he  walked  and  all  the  boys  fol- 
lered  him,  leavin'  Bohm  alone  there  facin'  all 
them  flapjacks.  I  reckon  he'd  a  rather  faced 
them  flapjacks  than  Bill,  though, — Gee,  Bill 
was  some  hot,"  and  Charley's  blue  eyes 
sparkled  at  the  reminiscence. 

It  was  exactly  as  I  thought;  the  boys 
despised  Bohm  and  were  absolutely  loyal  to 
Owen. 

After  this  episode,  Owen  had  a  long  talk 
ivith  Bill  and  a  short,  heated  interview  with 


THE  MEASURE  OF  A  MAN       103 

Bohm,  which  resulted  in  the  old  man's  re 
luctant,  but  hasty,  departure. 

I  drew  a  long  breath  of  relief  when  I  saw 
the  last  wagon  disappear  and  looked  up  fully 
expecting  to  see  the  dove  of  peace  pluming 
herself  on  our  roof-tree.  But  apparently 
doves  in  the  cattle  country  never  alight, — 
they  just  pass  by. 

Owen  had  bought  several  thousand  acres 
of  land  from  the  railroad.  A  car  of  barbed 
wire  for  the  fence,  which  was  to  encircle  the 
entire  ranch,  was  at  the  station.  Our  land 
was  now  in  one  solid  block  with  the  exception 
of  a  few  acres  of  Government  land  which 
could  only  be  acquired  by  homestead  entry. 
This  limited  acreage  in  the  great  checker 
board  was  all  that  remained  of  the  "free 
range." 

At  this  juncture  Owen  was  served  with  a 
notice  by  the  United  States  Marshal  forbid 
ding  him  to  build  the  fence.  It  would  enclose 
Government  land.  Every  mile  of  the  pro 
posed  fence  would  have  been  on  ground  which 
he  had  bought,  paid  for,  and  on  which  he  was 
paying  taxes — but  still — he  could  not  fence 


104          A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

it.  "Government  land  must  remain  unin- 
closed."  It  made  no  difference,  apparently, 
what  happened  to  the  cattleman  whose 
money  was  tied  up  in  property  he  could  not 
use.  Government  land  must  remain  free  and 
open  to  the  public.  But,  while  those  few 
acres  of  free  range  remained  open  to  the 
public,  thousands  of  acres  of  our  unprotected 
land  remained  open  also.  Everyone  used  it. 
The  ranchmen  for  miles  around,  learning 
that  Owen  was  forbidden  to  fence,  gathered 
all  their  cattle  and  threw  them  onto  our  land. 

It  was  a  very  serious  problem.  Our  range 
was  being  destroyed,  the  grass  was  eaten  off 
so  closely  nothing  remained  for  winter  range. 
Our  full-blooded  Hereford  breeding  stock  was 
of  little  use  to  us.  All  our  money  was  in 
vested  in  land  and  cattle  and  there  was  only 
one  thing  left  to  do, — put  riders  on  our  range 
to  drive  the  other  cattle  off. 

Upon  this  solution  of  the  problem  the  dove 
of  peace  promptly  departed  and  we  entered 
upon  a  long,  hard  struggle  for  the  possession 
and  use  of  what  was  our  own.  Owen  was 
faced,  not  only  with  financial  failure,  but  ab- 


THE  MEASURE  OF  A  MAN       105 

solute  ruin.  The  future  was  far  from  bright, 
but  when  an  old  school-mate  came  with  her 
husband  to  visit  us  it  seemed  positively  bril 
liant  by  contrast. 

Alice  Joice  and  I  had  been  devoted  friends 
for  years.  The  summer  before  we  had 
spent  in  Europe,  where  I  had  left  her,  deep 
in  the  study  of  Art,  to  which  she  intended 
"to  devote"  her  life. 

"It  is  so  commonplace  to  marry,  Esther," 
these  were  her  parting  words ;  "any  woman 
can  marry — but  so  few  can  have  a  real 
career." 

Alice's  "career"  had  abruptly  ended  in 
"commonplace  matrimony,"  for  she  had  just 
married  a  Mr.  Van  Winkle  from  Brooklyn,  a 
man  I  had  never  met.  They  were  touring 
the  West  and  were  most  anxious  to  include 
our  ranch.  I  was  very  eager  to  see  them  so 
I  wrote,  urging  her  to  come,  but  asked  her 
to  let  us  know  when  to  expect  them,  so  there 
would  be  no  mistake  about  our  being  at  the 
station. 

I  was  particularly  anxious  to  have  them 
see  ranch  life  at  its  best  for  they  were  our 


106          A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

first  guests.  The  house  looked  very  attrac 
tive  with  all  our  own  furniture  and  wedding 
presents  in  place,  but  I  thought  the  guest 
room  floor  might  be  improved  so  I  painted  it 
Saturday  afternoon.  Then  everything  went 
wrong:  the  wind-mill  pump  failed  to  work, 
the  whole  pipe  had  to  be  pulled  out  of  the 
well;  we  were  without  running  water  in  the 
house  and  couldn't  have  a  fire  in  the  kitchen 
range,  so  rations  were  extremely  light. 

Supper,  consisting  chiefly  of  sardines, 
awaited  Owen,  who  was  trying  to  get  some 
of  the  grease  off  his  hands,  when  a  home 
steader  by  the  name  of  Hamm,  his  wife,  sis 
ter  and  five  children  drove  up.  He  had  come 
to  see  Owen  on  business  and  they  were  in 
vited  in  to  supper. 

The  table  was  lengthened  and  reset,  more 
sardines  were  opened  and  we  were  just 
ready  to  sit  down  when  my  Aunt,  who  was 
standing  near  the  window,  exclaimed: 

"Who  on  earth  is  that!" 

Who,  indeed!  Alice  Joice  and  her  hus 
band  with  a  team  they  had  hired  at  the 
station. 


THE  MEASURE  OF  A  MAN       107 

Having  a  strong  heart  I  did  not  faint,  but 
left  Auntie  to  help  the  maid  make  the  neces 
sary  additions  to  the  table — and  sardines, 
while  Owen  and  I  hurried  out  to  greet  them. 

"Hello,  dearie,  here  we  are,"  Alice  called 
from  the  wagon  as  I  approached.  "Clarence 
and  I  thought  it  would  be  such  fun  to  sur 
prise  you.  How-do-you-do,  Mr.  Brook,  I  want 
you  to  meet  my  husband,  Mr.  Van  Winkle." 
Alice  jumped  off  the  step  and  threw  herself 
into  my  arms.  "Oh,  Esther,  isn't  this  fun  ?" 
Gay,  inconsequent  Alice,  from  her  city  home, 
never  considered  for  a  moment  that  a  sur 
prise  could  be  anything  but  joyous. 

If  I  had  met  him  in  Egypt,  I  should  have 
known  that  her  husband's  name  was  Van 
Winkle — Clarence  Van  Winkle,  it  couldn't 
have  been  anything  else. 

He  was  pale  and  tall  and  thin  and  rigid. 
The  inflexibility  of  the  combined  ancestral 
spines  had  united  in  his  back  bone.  He 
might  break,  he  could  never  bend.  My  imag 
ination  failed  when  I  tried  to  picture  the 
meeting  between  the  heir  to  the  Van  Winkle 
name  and  the  Hamms.  It  was  far  worse 


108          A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

than  anything  I  could  ever  have  imagined. 

Alice  was  very  sweet;  she  talked  all  the 
time,  patted  the  five  little  Hamms  and  won 
their  mother's  heart  by  asking  their  names 
and  ages,  but  in  acknowledging  the  intro 
duction  Clarence  only  bowed  slightly,  a  move 
ment  which  required  great  effort,  then 
relapsed  into  silence  immediately,  scrutiniz 
ing  the  Hamm  family  through  his  glasses  as 
though  they  were  rare  animals  in  a  Zoo. 
Mrs.  Hamm  and  her  sister  were  stupefied 
and  did  not  speak  a  word,  but  Mr.  Hamm,  a 
truly  sociable  person  from  Oklahoma,  con 
tinually  addressed  Clarence  as  "young  fel 
ler,"  which  produced  the  same  effect  as  a 
violent  chill,  and  when  he  joyously  jogged  a 
Van  Winkle  elbow  to  emphasize  some  pleas 
antry,  Clarence  firmly  moved  his  chair  out 
of  reach  of  the  defiling  touch. 

Alice  ate  everything  and  did  not  stop  talk 
ing  for  a  moment.  Clarence  refused  every 
thing  but  a  cracker,  which  he  munched  in 
silence.  Suddenly  he  turned  white  and  left 
the  table.  Owen  escorted  him  out-of-doors 
while  Alice  and  I  followed.  He  was  faint, 


THE  MEASURE  OF  A  MAN       109 

just  faint,  and  collapsed  weakly  onto  a  gar 
den  seat.  Alice  said  it  was  the  Denver  water, 
but  I  suspected  unassimilated  Hamm.  Owen 
stayed  with  him  and  Alice  and  I  returned  to 
finish  supper.  The  Hamms  left  soon  after 
and  Clarence  gradually  revived  under  the  in 
fluence  of  Owen's  New  England  accent  and 
Scotch  whisky. 

All  at  once  I  thought  of  the  freshly  painted 
guest-room  floor.  I  explained  the  situation 
to  Alice  and  we  went  up  to  see  if  it  was  dry. 
It  was,  but  the  smell  of  paint  was  most  evi 
dent.  Alice  gave  a  few  sniffs  and  said  apolo 
getically  : 

"I'm  dreadfully  sorry,  Esther,  but  Clar 
ence  couldn't  possibly  sleep  here.  He  is  so 
sensitive  to  odors  of  any  kind."  I  was  re 
minded  of  a  faint  aroma  which  had  clung  to 
the  Hamm  garments.  "If  there  is  another 
room  we  can  occupy,  I  think  it  would  be 
better."  Alice  was  accustomed  to  hotels.  I 
offered  our  room;  it  was  reluctantly  but 
finally  accepted,  the  scion  of  the  Van  Winkles 
must  not  breathe  paint.  All  the  things  from 
the  guest-room  were  put  in  our  room 


110          A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

and  ours  were  moved  up  to  the  guest-room. 

Just  before  they  retired  Alice  confided  to 
me  that  Clarence  had  had  some  temperature 
in  Denver  and  the  Doctor  thought  he  might 
be  threatened  with  typhoid  fever. 

"I  really  believe,  Esther,  if  Clarence  has 
any  temperature  in  the  morning  we  had  bet 
ter  go  back  to  Denver." 

I  reassured  her  as  I  bade  her  good-night 
and  then  sought  Owen.  I  was  beginning  to 
have  some  temperature  myself. 

"Owen,  if  Clarence  Van  Winkle  has  a  thou 
sandth  of  a  degree  of  temperature  in  the 
morning  don't  tell  him  that  he'll  be  all  right; 
let  him  go  back  to  Denver  or  anywhere 
else  he  pleases.  Imagine  that  man  with 
typhoid,  here." 

The  next  morning  Alice  appeared  at  break 
fast  alone.  Clarence  had  no  temperature, 
but  he  felt  weak  and  thought  he  had  better 
stay  in  bed.  He  continued  to  feel  weak  for 
three  days,  Alice  dancing  attendance  while 
the  rest  of  us  tried  to  get  the  household  and 
water  running  again. 

When  Clarence  finally  emerged  from  his 


THE  MEASURE  OF  A  MAN       111 

seclusion,  he  was  in  high  spirits,  positively 
buoyant. 

"Well,  now  I  want  to  see  everything,  all 
the  cattle,  the  cow-boys,  branding,  dehorn 
ing,  a  round-up  and  what  is  it  you  call  it? 
Oh,  yes,  'broncho  busting*.  We  have  to  go 
back  to  Denver  tomorrow,  you  know."  He 
had  to  stop  for  want  of  breath. 

Alice  beamed  fondly  upon  her  enthusiastic 
bridegroom.  Mine  looked  far  from  enthus 
iastic.  Owen  was  a  perfect  host  but  he  could 
not  give  a  demonstration  of  a  year's  work  in 
one  day.  The  horse-breaking  was  over  for 
the  season  and  the  branded  and  dehorned 
cattle  scattered  over  miles  of  country.  This 
he  endeavored  to  explain  to  Clarence  who 
made  no  attempt  to  conceal  his  disappoint 
ment  nor  his  petulance. 

"Oh,  how  unfortunate.  I've  heard  so  much 
of  the  fascination  of  ranch  life  I  thought  I'd 
like  to  see  a  little  of  it.  I  thought  you  had 
broncho  busting  or  something  interesting  or 
entertaining  going  on  every  day." 

Owen  bit  his  lip.  He  was  busy  beyond 
words  but  he  dropped  everything  and  that 


112          A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

afternoon  we  took  our  guests  for  a  drive  over 
the  ranch.  The  wagon  was  new  and  rattled 
and,  wishing  to  spare  Clarence's  delicate  sen 
sibilities,  Owen  put  on  some  washers. 

We  were  in  the  middle  of  the  prairie  miles 
from  the  house,  Clarence  had  recovered  his 
good  humor  since  he  was  "actually  seeing 
something",  as  he  tactfully  expressed  it, 
when  one  of  the  wheels  began  to  drag.  The 
washers  proved  to  be  too  tight,  we  had  a  hot 
spindle.  There  was  nothing  to  do  but  sit 
there  in  the  blazing  sun  while  the  two  men 
took  off  the  wheel,  removed  a  washer  or  two 
and  greased  the  spindle. 

I  wouldn't  have  missed  it,  the  mere 
thought  of  that  scene  was  a  joy  to  me  for 
months  afterwards.  Clarence  Van  Winkle 
red  and  perspiring  from  the  effort  of  lifting 
a  wheel,  wiping  his  greasy  hands  on  a  piece 
of  dirty  waste !  Alice's  face  was  a  study.  I 
had  to  keep  my  eyes  fixed  on  the  landscape 
after  one  look  over  the  side  of  the  wagon.  I 
was  afraid  I  should  laugh  out  loud. 

The  day  they  left  Bill  drove  us  all  to  the 
station.  We  just  made  the  train,  which  was 


THE  MEASURE  OF  A  MAN       113 

standing  on  the  track  as  we  arrived.  Owen 
hurried  to  check  the  Van  Winkle's  baggage. 
Bill  had  to  stay  with  the  horses.  Alice  and  I 
had  all  the  wraps,  which  left  Clarence  to 
carry  two  dress  suit  cases  across  the  tracks. 
His  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  porter  and  he  was 
hurrying  toward  the  Pullman  when  he 
stubbed  his  toe  on  one  rail,  sprawled  all  the 
way  across  the  track  and  hit  his  neck  on  the 
second  rail.  The  suit  cases  flew  in  one  direc 
tion,  his  hat  in  another,  his  glasses  fell  off 
and  his  watch  dropped  out  of  his  pocket. 
Alice  and  I  rushed  to  the  rescue,  the  porter 
assisted  Clarence  to  his  feet  and  picked  up 
the  suit  cases,  we  gathered  up  the  rest  of  the 
articles  while  Clarence  stood  in  the  middle 
of  the  track  rubbing  his  knees,  to  the  great 
amusement  of  the  passengers.  Alice  went 
up  to  him  when  suddenly  he  screwed  his  face 
up  as  a  child  does  before  it  begins  to  cry, 
threw  both  arms  around  her  neck  and  buried 
his  face  on  her  shoulder.  The  conductor 
terminated  the  scene  by  calling  "All  aboard". 
Clarence  limped  to  the  train,  rubbing  his 
neck,  and  the  last  we  saw  was  Alice  holding 


114          A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

all  the  wraps,  the  hat,  glasses  and  watch, 
waving  to  us  from  the  vestibule  and  Clar 
ence  comfortably  seated  in  the  Pullman 
smiling  a  wan  farewell  through  the  window. 
As  the  train  with  its  precious  freight  was 
lost  to  sight  around  a  curve,  Owen  and  I 
began  to  laugh.  We  laughed  until  we  were 
so  weak  we  could  scarcely  get  into  the 
wagon.  Bill's  face  was  perfectly  serious, 
but  his  eyes  had  a  little  twinkle  in  them  as 
he  said  with  his  slow  drawl : 

"Lord,  Mrs.  Brook,  I'm  glad  that  young 
man  married  that  girl.  He'd  orter  have 
somebody  look  after  him.  A  poor  little  gos- 
lin'  feller  like  that  ain't  got  no  business  goin' 
round  alone." 

Bill  always  sized  up  a  situation  in  the 
fewest  possible  words. 

During  the  drive  back  to  the  ranch  I 
thought  of  Alice  and  her  future  by  the  side 
of  a  man  of  that  type.  Our  future  was  un 
certain  enough,  but  if  trouble  and  vicissitudes 
were  our  portion,  at  least  I  had  someone  with 
whom  to  share  them. 

Tex  had  been  away  for  several  weeks  and 


THE  MEASURE  OF  A  MAN       115 

we  were  surprised  to  see  him  at  the  gate  as 
we  drove  up.  He  looked  very  serious  as  he 
asked  Owen  if  he  might  speak  with  him  and 
Owen  looked  more  serious  when  he  came  out 
of  the  office  after  their  conversation. 

"What  is  it,  Owen?  Something  is  wrong. 
Please  tell  me." 

Owen  took  me  by  the  arm  and  we  walked 
up  and  down  under  the  trees. 

"Tex  came  over  to  tell  me,  Esther,  that  I 
am  to  be  arrested  for  'driving  cattle  off  the 
range/  Technically,  it's  a  serious  charge, 
carrying  a  heavy  fine  and — "  he  paused — 
"imprisonment,  but  don't  worry,  my  dear," 
as  he  felt  me  start  a  little  at  his  last  words, 
"it's  listed  on  the  statute  books  as  a  criminal 
offence,  connected  with  rustling,  but  that 
can't  hold  in  this  case.  It's  a  'frame-up'  to 
give  me  trouble,  that's  all.  It  might  have 
been  serious  but  Tex  heard  of  it  and  came 
to  warn  me  just  in  time.  There's  been  a  plot 
to  eat  me  out  and  now  they  want  to  drive  me 
out.  I'm  going  in  to  Denver  to  see  my  law 
yer  tomorrow.  I'm  more  troubled  on  your 
account  than  anything  else." 


116          A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

"Don't  worry  about  me,  Owen,  we're  going 
to  stay  in  this  country  and  fight  it  out  to  the 
end.  I'll  face  anything,  as  long  as  you  don't 
cry,"  and  we  went  into  the  house  laughing, 
as  we  thought  of  Clarence  Van  Winkle. 

The  miserable  experience  which  followed 
was  sufficiently  serious,  even  after  the 
charge  had  been  changed  to  one  of  minor 
character. 

Owen  was  arrested  on  our  anniversary.  I 
went  his  bond.  There  was  a  long,  expensive 
law-suit  which  we  lost,  the  Judge  contending 
that  if  a  man  wished  to  protect  his  land  he 
should  fence  it.  It  was  explained  that  the 
Government  had  forbidden  it,  but  the  Judge 
said  that  did  not  affect  the  verdict  in  this 
case.  Owen  paid  the  damages  awarded  by 
the  Court,  we  gathered  together  our  sixteen 
cow-puncher  witnesses  who  had  been  staying 
with  us  at  one  of  the  largest  hotels  in  Den 
ver,  an  event  for  the  cow-punchers,  and  re 
turned  to  the  ranch. 

Did  Owen  weep  on  my  shoulder?  He  set 
his  lips  a  little  more  firmly  and  his  face  had 


THE  MEASURE  OF  A  MAN       117 

an  added  sternness  as  he  looked  across  those 
miles  of  rolling  prairie  he  owned  but  which 
now  were  utterly  useless. 

He  broke  the  silence  at  last.  His  voice  had 
a  different  tone. 

"I  am  going  to  have  the  use  of  my  own 
land.  They  shan't  keep  me  out  of  it  any 
longer.  I  am  going  to  sell  off  all  the  cattle 
and  put  in  sheep.  Then  we'll  see!  With 
herders  we  don't  need  fences  and  cattle  won't 
graze  where  sheep  have  ranged." 

Thus  with  the  first  year  of  our  marriage, 
the  first  chapter  of  our  ranch  experience 
ended  and  a  totally  different  life  began. 


vm 

THE  SHEEP  BUSINESS 

WITH  the  coming  of  the  sheep  every 
thing  was  changed.  It  was  like 
living  in  a  different  age,  almost  as 
though  we  had  slipped  back  hundreds  of 
years  into  Biblical  times  and  had  come  into 
intimate  association  with  Jacob  and  Joseph. 
With  the  advent  of  the  wool  or  lamb  buyers 
there  was  a  sudden  transition  to  the  more 
commercial  atmosphere  of  the  twentieth  cen 
tury,  but  it  was  so  fleeting  our  pastoral 
existence  was  scarcely  interrupted. 

A  few  of  our  old  men  had  gone,  Tex  among 
them.  He  left  with  regret,  but  as  he  said — 
"Lord  knows  I  hate  to  go,  Mr.  Brook,  but 
cattle's  all  I  know  and  an  old  cow  man  ain't 
got  no  business  around  sheep;  they  just 
naturally  despise  each  other."  And  he  went 
up  into  Montana  where  the  cattle  business 
still  flourished. 

118 


THE  SHEEP  BUSINESS  119 

Most  of  the  other  men  stayed  on,  however, 
to  ride  the  fence  lines,  look  after  the  horses 
and  do  the  various  things  about  the  ranch, 
but  the  days  of  branding,  dehorning  and 
round-ups  were  past  and  the  cow-puncher 
was  replaced  by  "camp  tenders". 

The  sheep  were  trailed  all  the  way  from 
New  Mexico.  Steve,  who  spoke  Spanish,  was 
foreman,  and  with  three  of  the  other  men  on 
horseback  had  come  up  the  trail  with  the 
sheep  and  the  soft-voiced  Mexican  herders. 

Their  entire  camp  equipment  was  skillfully 
packed  on  diminutive  burros.  It  was  some 
what  startling  to  see  what  appeared  to  be 
animated  wood-piles,  water-casks,  rolls  of 
bedding  or  dish-pans  bobbing  about  over  the 
woolly  backs  of  the  sheep,  until  a  parting  in 
the  band  revealed  the  legs  and  lowered  head 
of  a  sleepy-eyed  burro. 

The  herders  spoke  no  English  and  it  was 
so  charming  to  receive  a  gleaming  smile  and 
low  bow  while  being  addressed  as  "Padron" 
and  "Sefiora"  that  we  plunged  into  the  study 
of  their  musical  language  forthwith. 

Each  herder  was  in  charge  of  a  band  of 


120          A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

from  fifteen  hundred  to  twenty-five  hundred 
sheep.  Two  herders  occupied  a  camp,  but 
the  sheep  were  placed  in  separate  corrals 
and,  in  order  to  give  the  various  bands 
ample  pasturage,  the  camps  were  placed 
miles  apart. 

Early  in  the  morning  the  sheep  were 
driven  out,  the  herders  taking  their  bands  in 
opposite  directions.  All  day  long  the  flock 
quietly  grazed  over  the  prairie,  the  Mexican 
with  his  dog  at  his  feet  standing  like  a  sen 
tinel  on  a  hill  from  which  he  could  overlook 
his  entire  band  and  ward  off  any  prowling 
coyote  whose  approach  was  heralded  by  a 
sudden  scurry  among  the  sheep. 

Eternal  vigilance,  faithfulness  and  good 
judgment  were  the  essential  qualities  in  a 
herder,  judgment  in  the  handling  of  the 
sheep,  in  the  selection  of  the  best  grass  and 
water,  the  time  for  taking  them  out  and 
bringing  them  back  to  the  camp.  The  herd 
ers  were  not  supposed  to  meet  and  talk 
together  for  while  they  were  engrossed  in 
conversation  or  out  of  sight  of  the  sheep  the 
two  bands  might  become  mixed,  a  very 


THE  SHEEP  BUSINESS  121 

serious  thing  when  the  ewes  were  accom 
panied  by  their  lambs,  for  when  the  bands 
were  separated  again  the  lamb  might  be  in 
one  band  and  its  mother  in  the  other. 

It  was  a  lonely  life,  but  one  for  which 
Mexicans  are  especially  suited.  They  lack 
the  initiative  of  the  Anglo-Saxons,  they  are 
naturally  tranquil,  slow  of  speech  and  action 
and  content  to  do  nothing — gentle  children 
from  the  land  of  Mariana. 

Scattered  over  the  prairie,  the  sheep  from 
a  distance  looked  like  mere  dots  so  closely 
resembling  the  clumps  of  weeds,  it  was 
necessary  to  locate  the  herder  before  they 
could  be  identified.  He  looked  like  a  solitary 
fence  post  placed  on  the  top  of  a  hill. 

The  Mexicans  were  most  gracious  and  re 
sponsive,  so  delighted  to  receive  a  visit  from 
the  Padron  that  it  was  a  joy  to  talk  with 
them.  We  were  never  certain  just  what  we 
had  said,  to  be  sure,  but  the  effect  of  our 
halting,  broken  sentences  of  Spanish  ap 
peared  so  pleasing,  we  were  convinced  that 
if  we  could  only  converse  fluently  our  words 
would  become  immortal. 


122          A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

Urbanity  was  most  contagious.  Owen  and 
I  made  deep  bows  to  the  herders,  we  almost 
bowed  to  the  sheep  in  an  over-mastering  de 
sire  to  equal  the  politeness  of  Ramon,  Fidel, 
Francisco  or  Tranquilino.  What  names! 
The  atmosphere  of  the  ranch  became  so 
poetic  and  romantic  I  should  not  have  been 
surprised  to  see  Owen  adopt  long  hair  and  a 
flowing  tie.  After  a  day  spent  in  visiting  the 
sheep  camps  I  returned  in  an  ecstatic  mood. 
I  almost  fancied  myself  the  reincarnated 
spirit  of  Bo-Peep  or  Ramona  but  alas,  my 
true  identity  was  always  disclosed  as  soon  as 
I  reached  the  house  —  I  was  only  "the 
Missus". 

Nevertheless  the  sheep  business  was  fas 
cinating,  and  best  of  all  successful.  The 
question  of  the  range  was  settled.  We  had 
the  use  of  our  own  land  and  our  rights  were 
respected.  The  customary  feud  between  the 
sheepman  and  the  cattle  owners  was  avoided, 
since  our  sheep  were  always  kept  within  the 
limits  of  the  land  which  we  owned.  From 
being  the  object  of  hatred  and  vilification, 
Owen  became  a  personage;  his  opinion 


TRAILED  ALL  THE  WAY  FROM  NEW  MEXICO 


LIKE  A  SOLITARY  FENCE  POST 


THE  SHEEP  BUSINESS  123 

quoted,  his  method  of  handling  sheep  emu 
lated. 

There  were  a  few  sheep  men  in  the  coun 
try  who  had  made  an  indifferent  success. 
They  had  scoffed  at  Owen's  practice  of  selling 
off  all  the  lambs  in  the  autumn  and  main 
taining  the  number  of  his  sheep  by  additional 
purchases  but,  when  they  found  how  small 
his  losses  were,  they  promptly  adopted  his 
plan  and  even  some  of  the  old-time  cattle 
men  put  in  sheep. 

The  loss  of  the  law  suit  had  certainly 
proved  to  be  the  turning  point  in  the  history 
of  the  Brook  family.  Our  popularity  increased 
so  rapidly  it  was  amusing.  Bill  expressed 
what  I  felt  as  I  met  him  riding  through  the 
meadow. 

"Have  you  been  riding  the  fence  lines, 
Bill?" 

"Yes'm,  but  it's  just  takin'  exercise  for 
my  health.  There  ain't  nothin'  wrong  any 
more.  Since  you  folks  got  the  world  by  the 
tail  and  a  down-hill  pull,  everybody's  huntin' 
around  seem'  what  they  can  do  to  make  it 
pleasant  for  you.  I  notice  the  Three  Circle 


124          A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

outfit  don't  go  round  no  more  leavin'  all  the 
gates  open  and  when  we  get  a  fence  line 
staked  out,  the  stakes  ain't  all  pulled  up  by 
mornin'." 

"It  is  peaceful,  isn't  it  ?" 

"Peaceful,"  echoed  Bill,  with  feeling,  "I'm 
so  chuck  full  of  peace  I  can't  hardly  hold  any 
more.  I'll  bet  if  a  feller  was  to  hit  me,  I'd 
only  'baa-a'." 

There  was  a  vast  amount  of  "Baa-ing" 
going  on  at  the  ranch,  where  Mary  and  I 
were  raising  a  few  score  orphan  lambs  on 
the  bottle.  There  was  a  voracious  chorus 
whenever  we  appeared.  They  jumped  all 
over  us  and  as  soon  as  they  got  hold  of  the 
nipple  of  the  bottle  they  flopped  down  on 
their  knees  and  did  not  release  it  until  they 
had  gulped  down  the  last  drop  of  milk,  after 
which  they  stood  up,  their  little  sides  stick 
ing  out  as  though  they  had  been  stuffed.  As 
much  care  had  to  be  exercised  with  the  bot 
tles,  the  temperature  and  quantity  of  the 
milk  as  though  we  had  been  feeding  so  many 
babies. 

There  was  no  milk  at  the  outside  camps 


THE  SHEEP  BUSINESS  125 

and  no  one  to  care  for  the  poor  abandoned 
lambs  whose  frivolous  young  mothers  re 
fused  to  own  them,  leaving  them  to  starve. 
Occasionally  an  old  ewe  of  truly  maternal 
instinct  could  be  fooled  into  adopting  one  of 
these  little  "dogies"  or  "bums".  The  skin  of 
her  dead  lamb  was  taken  off  and  slipped 
over  the  orphan,  which  was  joyfully  accepted 
because  of  its  smell ! 

When  the  Iambs  made  their  appearance  in 
May,  the  bands  were  separated,  we  had  ad 
ditional  herders  and  they  had  to  be  more 
watchful  for  "Spring  lamb"  is  also  very 
tempting  to  coyotes.  It  was  easy  for  a 
herder  to  lose  ten  or  twenty  lambs,  for  the 
little  things  congregate  behind  rocks  or 
clumps  of  weeds  and  go  to  sleep,  are  over 
looked  when  the  sheep  are  driven  back  to  the 
camp  in  the  evening,  and  become  the  victims 
of  those  prairie  wolves  which  continually 
lurk  about. 

Sometimes  when  we  were  driving,  a  tiny 
white  speck  would  come  racing  after  the 
wagon,  a  lamb,  which  had  been  left  behind. 
Lambs  are  such  senseless  little  things,  when 


126         A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

they  are  frightened  they  will  adopt  any  mov 
ing  object  in  lieu  of  a  mother. 

We  pulled  them  out  of  prairie-dog  holes 
into  which  they  had  thrust  their  heads  and 
become  fastened  by  having  the  loose  earth 
fall  in  about  their  necks — they  were  trouble 
some  but  so  appealing  and  amusing,  they 
were  a  never-ending  source  of  entertainment 
from  the  first  moment  they  appeared,  a  tiny 
body  supported  on  long,  wabbly  legs. 

As  they  grew  stronger  "playful  as  a  lamb" 
acquired  a  new  meaning.  They  capered  and 
they  bucked,  they  raced  around  the  corral  in 
the  evening  when  the  ewes  were  contentedly 
lying  down,  they  frisked  about  on  the  backs 
of  their  patient  mothers,  they  jumped  stiff- 
legged,  and  in  a  wild  excess  of  joy  bounded 
into  the  air  giving  a  cork-screw  twist  to  their 
hindquarters,  which  produced  a  most  ludi 
crous  effect. 

Old  quotations  from  the  Bible  came  to 
have  added  significance;  as  the  shearer  held 
a  poor  frightened  sheep  between  his  knees 
and  rapidly  clipped  off  the  fleece  with  his 
gleaming  shears,  there  was  not  a  sound  if  a 


THE  SHEEP  BUSINESS          127 

clnmsy  movement  cut  a  deep  gash  in  the 
tender  flesh;  the  "sheep  before  her  shearer 
was  dumb"  indeed. 

I  spent  days  in  the  shearing  sheds  watch 
ing  the  proceedings  from  a  pile  of  wool  sacks 
or  passing  out  small  metal  disks  in  exchange 
for  the  fleeces  the  shearers  turned  in.  At 
the  end  of  the  day  the  disks  were  counted 
and  each  shearer  credited  with  the  number 
of  sheep  he  had  shorn. 

The  fleeces  were  rolled  and  tied  separately, 
then  thrown  up  to  a  man  on  a  platform,  who 
packed  them  in  a  long  sack  which  was  sus 
pended  from  the  top  of  a  high  frame.  As  it 
was  filled,  it  was  taken  down,  sewed  up  and 
rolled  into  the  end  of  the  shed  to  remain 
until  later  in  the  season  when  the  wool  was 
sold  and  hauled  to  the  railroad. 

Life  was  certainly  peaceful  compared  to 
what  it  had  been,  but  there  was  little  danger 
of  our  becoming  "on  weed",  as  a  certain  re 
tired  cattle-man  expressed  it  after  a  short 
sojourn  in  Europe. 

Lambing,  shearing  and  dipping  followed  in 
rapid  succession.  The  herders  cooked  for 


128          A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

themselves  and  once  a  week  the  wagons  were 
piled  with  supplies  and  provisions  which  were 
left  at  each  camp.  In  a  huge  store-room 
were  kept  quantities  of  salt-pork,  sugar, 
dried  fruits,  coffee,  flour  and  other  groceries. 
Flour  was  bought  by  the  ton  and  everything 
else  in  proportion.  Making  out  the  orders, 
having  all  the  freight  hauled  the  sixteen 
miles  from  the  railroad,  checking  it  out  and 
keeping  the  camps  supplied,  were  only  details 
but  it  was  the  multitude  of  detail  which  filled 
the  days  and  kept  us  from  becoming  "on 
weed".  We  issued  the  supplies  to  the  camp- 
tenders  ourselves,  after  one  of  them  had 
filled  all  of  the  Mexicans'  cans  with  gasoline 
instead  of  coal-oil,  because  "it  kind'a  had  the 
same  smell." 

Unless  we  chanced  to  have  guests,  for 
weeks  at  a  time  the  only  women  I  saw  were 
those  in  our  employ,  but  I  resented  having 
any  of  my  friends  think  of  my  life  as  "dull" 
or  "lonely".  On  the  contrary  it  was  fasci 
nating,  full  of  incident,  rich  in  experience 
which  money  could  not  buy.  Living  so  close 
to  the  great  heart  of  nature  during  those 


THE  SHEEP  BUSINESS 

years  on  the  plains,  the  vision  of  life  partook 
of  their  breadth  and  a  new  sense  of  values 
replaced  old,  artificial  standards.  To  be 
alone  on  the  vast  prairie  was  to  gain  a  new 
conception  of  infinity  and — eternity. 

The  Mexicans  stayed  on  the  ranch  about 
nine  months,  then  returned  to  their  homes 
for  a  short  visit.  They  were  the  most  invari 
able  creatures  I  ever  knew.  When  they  de 
parted  for  Taos  or  Trinidad  or  Antonito, 
perhaps  in  July,  they  would  announce  on 
what  date  and  by  what  train  they  would 
return  in  October.  That  was  the  end  of  it, 
and  upon  the  appointed  day  in  October  some 
one  would  meet  the  designated  train  from 
which  the  smiling  herder  alighted.  They 
never  failed  and  they  never  left  until  an 
other  herder  was  there  to  take  care  of  the 
sheep. 

One  summer  during  this  vacation  period, 
eight  new  herders  came  to  replace  eight  that 
were  going  home.  They  were  a  fierce  looking 
lot  from  a  different  section  of  the  country. 
They  had  been  on  the  ranch  only  a  short 


130         A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

time  when  Steve  began  to  have  trouble  with 
them.  They  were  late  getting  their  sheep 
out  in  the  morning,  they  drove  them  too 
rapidly  and  brought  them  in  too  early  in  the 
evening.  In  a  few  weeks  the  sheep  began  to 
lose  flesh  and  show  the  effects  of  bad  hand 
ling. 

The  newcomers  disobeyed  all  orders,  unless 
Steve  happened  to  be  on  the  spot.  He  had  to 
watch  them  constantly.  He  came  up  to  a 
camp  unexpectedly  one  noon  and  found  two 
of  these  Mexicans  ready  to  sit  down  to  a 
dinner  they  had  just  cooked.  It  was  an  in 
variable  rule  that  the  herders  should  take  a 
lunch  with  them,  for  their  mid-day  meal,  and 
not  return  to  the  camp.  They  had  left  their 
sheep  alone,  so  Steve  made  them  leave  their 
dinner  and  go  back  to  their  bands,  while  he 
stayed  to  make  sure  they  did  not  return. 

It  was  impossible  to  discharge  them  until 
new  herders  could  be  brought  from  New 
Mexico  and  he  and  Owen  talked  over  the 
situation  at  length  that  night. 

Early  in  the  morning  Steve  went  out  on 
another  trip  of  inspection.  About  two 


THE  SHEEP  BUSINESS  131 

o'clock  he  rode  into  the  yard,  his  face  cov 
ered  with  blood  from  a  deep  gash  in  his 
head.  He  fell  from  his  horse  into  Owen's 
arms.  We  brought  him  in,  washed  off  the 
blood,  gave  him  a  stimulant  and  waited 
until  he  was  able  to  tell  us  what  had 
happened. 

It  developed  that  as  he  came  in  sight  of 
the  camp  he  saw  four  of  the  Mexicans  out 
side  of  the  cabin.  They  stood  motionless  as 
he  approached,  then  began  to  hurl  rocks  at 
him.  One  hit  his  horse  and  he  was  nearly 
thrown  but  managed  to  keep  his  seat.  He 
was  struck  several  times  on  the  body.  Al 
though  realizing  that  the  Mexicans  intended 
to  kill  him,  he  jumped  off  his  horse  and  went 
toward  them.  A  rock  struck  his  head,  but 
with  undaunted  courage  he  picked  up  some 
of  the  rocks  and  threw  them  back  at  the 
herders.  They  had  not  expected  that  turn 
to  the  affair  and  ran  into  the  cabin.  Steve 
was  unarmed  and  too  badly  hurt,  single 
handed,  to  deal  with  the  Mexicans,  so  he  got 
on  his  horse,  with  difficulty,  and  came  back 
to  the  ranch. 


132          A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

The  next  thing  I  knew,  Owen,  Bill  and 
Fred,  each  carrying  a  gun,  got  into  the  wagon 
and  drove  off. 

When  anything  happened  it  came  with 
such  suddenness  there  was  never  opportunity 
for  questions,  besides,  my  association  with 
men  had  taught  me  the  value  of  silence — in 
an  emergency. 

In  a  few  hours  Owen  and  Fred  came  back. 
They  had  met  the  eight  new  herders  walking 
into  the  ranch  to  "quit".  They  walked  back 
to  their  respective  camps  instead,  their  pace 
accelerated  by  a  loaded  gun  pointing  at  their 
backs.  The  cabins  were  searched,  several 
villainous  looking  knives  confiscated  and 
eight  subdued  cut-throats  returned  to  the 
peaceful  occupation  of  herding  sheep,  under 
Bill's  watchful  eye  and  loaded  gun. 

Owen  said  that  it  wasn't  at  all  necessary 
for  the  Mexicans  to  understand  English  since 
Bill's  few  remarks  were  sufficiently  lurid  to 
attract  their  attention. 

Until  other  herders  could  be  brought  to 
the  ranch,  one  white  man,  always  armed, 
stayed  at  each  camp,  constantly  on  guard  lest 


THE  SHEEP  BUSINESS  133 

the  vindictive  herders  set  fire  to  the  camps 
or  kill  the  sheep.  These  were  no  gentle  chil 
dren  from  the  land  of  Mariana ;  we  discovered 
they  were  desperate  characters  from  Old 
Mexico,  to  whom  murder  was  second  nature. 

Bill's  opinion  of  the  sheep  business  after 
his  brief  experience  in  the  camps  could  only 
be  published  in  an  expurgated  edition.  He 
hated  the  Mexicans,  he  hated  the  sheep,  he 
hated  everything  connected  with  them.  After 
seeing  his  charges  safely  on  board  a  south 
bound  train,  he  returned  to  the  ranch  with 
all  the  joy  of  an  exile. 

"I've  been  up  against  tough  men,  Mrs. 
Brook,  but  that  bunch  is  the  worst  I  ever 
seen.  They're  just  like  a  pack  of  coyotes, 
grinnin'  and  sneakin'  up  behind  you,  waitin' 
'til  they  git  a  chance  to  finish  you.  Between 
listnin'  to  the  grass  grow  and  pickin'  off 
sheep  ticks,  I  got  plumb  locoed  settin'  there 
watchin'  'em.  I  jest  had  to  feel  my  skin 
every  once  in  a  while  to  be  sure  I  wasn't 
growin'  wool." 


IX 

THE  UNEXPECTED 

IF  there  is  anything  in  suggestion,  Carlyle 
was  responsible  for  the  whole  affair, 
otherwise     why    should   we   have  de 
ferred  our  drive  until  the  late  afternoon  and 
selected  Sartor  Resartus  of  all  books  to  read 
aloud  after  lunch  ? 

Owen  wanted  to  visit  one  of  the  sheep 
camps  to  examine  the  corrals  before  having 
the  hay  stacked  there  for  winter  use  and  he 
urged  us  to  go  with  him.  His  invitation  was 
joyfully  accepted.  For  many  weeks  we  had 
scarcely  left  the  ranch  as  Owen's  Mother, 
who  was  with  us,  had  been  desperately  ill. 
The  crisis  had  passed,  however,  so  we  did  not 
hesitate  to  go  off  for  a  few  hours,  leaving 
Madame  Brook  with  her  nurse.  My  aunt, 
Owen's  sister  and  her  two  children  were  at 
the  ranch  also,  and  after  so  many  weeks  of 
anxiety  we  all  felt  the  relaxation  and  joy- 
134 


THE  UNEXPECTED  135 

ously  climbed  into  the  wagon  when  Owen 
drove  up. 

There  were  summer  and  winter  camps  for 
the  sheep  and  our  objective  point  was  an  old 
place,  acquired  with  the  ranch,  which  had 
been  converted  into  a  winter  camp.  During 
the  summer  it  was  Unoccupied. 

We  drove  along  laughing  and  talking. 
Owen's  nephew  carried  his  gun  and  kept  a 
sharp  lookout  for  coyotes.  It  was  a  glorious 
day  and  we  were  in  the  mood  to  appreciate 
all  its  beauty. 

The  meadows,  waist  deep  in  native  hay, 
were  flecked  with  the  gold  of  the  prairie  sun 
flowers.  The  wild  roses  grew  in  tangled 
masses  everywhere,  their  perfume  mingled 
with  the  odor  of  the  sage  which  yielded 
up  its  aromatic  sweetness  as  the  wheels 
crushed  the  silvery  leaves.  The  plains  were 
mottled  with  the  shade  of  fleecy  clouds 
which  floated  lazily  across  the  sky,  the 
changing  lights  flooded  the  hills  with  daz 
zling  sunshine,  then  veiled  them  softly  with 
faint  cloud  shadows.  A  delicate  haze  hung 
over  the  more  distant  hills,  and  behind 


136          A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

the  mountains  thunder-heads  were  gathering. 

The  road  ran  directly  past  the  camp  and 
long  before  we  reached  it  we  could  see  the 
old  house,  forbidding  in  its  isolation,  stand 
ing  on  a  high  mesa  above  the  creek.  It  had 
been  built  years  before  by  a  settler  named 
La  Monte,  whose  footsteps  misfortune  had 
dogged  until  she  overtook  him  at  last.  His 
wife  deserted  him  and,  broken  in  heart  and 
fortune,  he  had  left  the  country.  Bohm  held 
a  mortgage  on  the  place  and  it  had  passed 
into  his  possession. 

An  air  of  abandonment  surrounded  the 
camp  even  in  winter  when  it  was  occupied, 
but  during  the  summer  when  it  was  totally 
deserted  the  ghosts  of  dead  happiness  stalked 
unheeded  through  the  silent  rooms.  Rank 
weeds  filled  the  yards,  the  plaintive  notes  of 
the  wood-doves  in  the  cotton-woods  by  the 
creek  and  the  weird,  haunting  howl  of  the 
coyotes  were  the  only  sounds  to  break  the 
silence. 

There  was  a  tale  connecting  old  Bohm  with 
the  La  Monte  tragedy  for  which  an  affair 
with  Mrs.  La  Monte  was  responsible.  We 


THE  UNEXPECTED  137 

were  some  distance  from  the  house,  the  rest 
of  the  party  were  intent  on  watching  a  big 
jack-rabbit  which  was  bounding  lightly 
across  the  prairie,  but  I  was  thinking  of  the 
wretched  story  which  the  sight  of  the  old 
house  always  recalled,  when  the  door  was 
slowly  opened  and  a  naked  man  paused  for 
a  moment  on  the  threshhold  then  walked 
down  the  steps  into  the  yard. 

I  gave  a  gasp,  my  eyes  fixed  on  that  ad 
vancing  figure,  the  others  looked  around  but 
in  that  instant  the  man  had  seen  us  and 
dropped  down  into  the  tall  weeds,  by  which 
he  was  completely  hidden. 

"What's  the  matter?"  Owen  asked,  sur 
prised  by  my  exclamation. 

"Why,  Owen,  a  man  without  any  clothes 
on  just  came  out  of  that  door  and  is  there 
in  the  weeds." 

Owen  turned  toward  the  yard,  there  was 
no  one  in  sight;  he  looked  at  me  in  amaze 
ment.  He  knew  I  must  be  in  earnest!  I  was 
not  given  to  "seeing  things". 

"Why,  that's  absurd,  how  could  you  im 
agine  anyone  being  out  here  in  this  deserted 


138          A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

place  miles  and  miles  from  the  railroad?" 

We  were  just  opposite  the  house  and  as  if 
in  response  to  Owen's  question  the  head  and 
naked  breast  of  a  man  rose  up  from  behind 
the  weeds.  His  face  was  crimson  and  the 
thick,  black  disheveled  hair  gave  him  such 
an  aspect  of  wildness  we  were  appalled. 

Owen  stopped  the  horses,  the  man  rose  to 
his  feet,  calmly  looked  at  us,  then  turned  and 
walked  slowly  into  the  house. 

We  were  speechless.  It  was  like  a  sudden 
apparition. 

After  a  moment  Owen  passed  the  lines 
tome. 

"Here,  Esther,  hold  the  horses  while  I  go 
in  and  investigate." 

"Be  careful,"  was  all  I  could  say.  There 
was  a  chorus  of  "Don'ts"  from  the  back  seat 
as  he  got  out  of  the  wagon. 

I  thought  of  the  gun.  "Gordon,  take  your 
gun  and  go  after  your  uncle.  I  know  that 
man  is  crazy." 

Gordon  jumped  out  and  ran  toward  the 
house,  but  before  he  reached  the  door  we 
heard  a  loud  burst  of  singing,  a  curious  ren- 


THE  UNEXPECTED  139 

dering  of  "Ta-rah-rah  boom-de-ahy".  In  a 
moment  Owen  and  Gordon  reappeared. 

"Well,  there's  no  doubt  of  his  being  crazy," 
Owen  said,  "we'll  go  to  the  Bosnian  ranch 
where  I  can  get  someone  to  come  back  with 
me.  I  can  telephone  the  Sheriff  from  there, 
too."  Then  he  told  us  what  had  happened. 

By  the  time  he  reached  the  door  the  man 
had  put  on  his  outside  shirt  and  was  stand 
ing  in  the  middle  of  the  bedroom  floor.  He 
glared  at  Owen  when  he  entered  and  made 
no  reply  when  asked  what  he  was  doing 
there,  then  he  turned  around  and  walked 
over  to  an  empty  bed  frame  which  stood 
against  the  wall,  got  behind  it  and  gradually 
slipped  down  underneath.  When  he  was 
lying  flat  on  his  back  on  the  floor,  his  feet 
toward  Owen,  he  began  to  sing  in  some 
broken  foreign  tongue. 

It  was  uncanny  and  as  we  drove  on  toward 
the  creek  I  could  only  say  "What  next?" 

"I  don't  know  what  on  earth  can  come 
next,"  Owen  replied.  "This  is  positively  the 
most  unexpected  and  unlikely  thing  that 
ever  happened." 


140          A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

We  had  to  drive  down  a  hill  before  we 
crossed  the  creek  and  at  last  lost  sight  of  the 
house,  the  sound  of  the  wild  singing  grew 
more  faint  and  finally  died  away. 

There  were  no  bridges  in  the  country  and 
while  at  this  time  there  was  no  flowing 
water,  the  sand  was  wet.  We  drove  down  a 
steep  bank  into  the  bed  of  the  creek  and  were 
almost  across  when  without  the  slightest 
warning  the  bottom  seemed  to  drop  out  of 
the  earth  beneath  us  and  the  wagon  sank 
down. 

"Quicksand!" 

There  was  just  time  for  that  one  excla 
mation  in  concert.  Owen  gave  the  horses  a 
quick  cut  with  the  whip,  they  sprang  for" 
ward,  caught  a  footing  on  the  solid  sand  and 
were  safe.  He  gave  them  another  cut,  but 
pull  as  they  would  they  could  not  move  the 
wagon,  which  had  sunk  to  the  hubs.  The 
double  tree  broke  and  the  horses  were  free. 
Owen  and  Gordon  jumped  out  on  the  tongue, 
holding  onto  the  horses  and  drove  them  up 
the  bank.  There  the  rest  of  us  sat,  feeling 
the  wagon  sinking  slowly  farther  and 


THE  UNEXPECTED  141 

farther  into  the  deadly,  yielding  substance. 

The  end  of  the  wagon-pole  rested  on  the 
firm  sand,  so  by  climbing  over  the  dashboard 
holding  on  to  it  with  one  hand  I  was  able  to 
work  my  own  way  down  the  wagon  tongue 
until  I  could  grasp  an  outstretched  hand  and 
jump  to  safety.  The  others  followed  my  ex 
ample.  The  danger  was  past,  but  we  trem 
bled  as  we  looked  back. 

It  is  impossible  to  distinguish  quicksand 
from  ordinary  sand  by  its  appearance,  but  it 
will  not  support  the  slightest  weight.  It 
seems  to  melt  into  nothing  and  the  sensation 
is  all  the  more  terrifying  from  its  sudden 
ness.  The  first  effect  is  instantaneous,  then 
the  engulfment  becomes  more  gradual. 

We  were  safe  but  afoot.  Owen  took  the 
horses. 

"Gordon  and  I  will  go  on  to  the  Bosnians 
and  get  another  wagon.  We  won't  be  long 
and  you  women  had  better  stay  here  and  not 
walk  these  three  miles." 

I  was  just  about  to  say  "all  right"  when  I 
happened  to  glance  behind  me  and  there  on 
the  bank,  silhouetted  quite  sharply  against 


142          A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

the  sky,  stood  the  figure  of  a  half -clad  man. 

He  was  watching  every  move  we  made.  I 
pointed  to  him. 

"I  think  you'd  better  come  with  us,"  said 
Owen  after  one  glance,  "he  might  decide  to 
investigate,"  and  off  we  all  trudged  down  the 
dusty  road. 

Blue  black  masses  of  cloud  were  spreading 
gradually  across  the  sky  and  distant  thunder 
muttered  ominously. 

If  a  bomb  had  alighted  in  the  centre  of  the 
Bosman  ranch,  where  supper  was  in  prog 
ress,  it  couldn't  have  produced  a  more  start 
ling  effect  than  our  arrival  on  foot  and  the 
account  of  our  experience.  They  urged  us 
to  spend  the  night,  as  the  storm  was  rapidly 
approaching,  but  we  felt  we  must  go  back 
with  Owen. 

Mr.  Bosman  hitched  our  team  to  one  of  his 
wagons,  while  Owen  telephoned  to  the 
Sheriff.  We  took  a  few  pieces  of  bread  and 
meat  for  the  poor  demented  creature  at  the 
camp  and  made  another  start.  Mr.  Bosman 
and  his  son  accompanied  us  on  horseback. 


THE  UNEXPECTED  143 

We  went  by  a  different  road  to  avoid  crossing 
the  creek. 

It  was  dark  by  the  time  we  reached  the  La 
Monte  place,  everything  was  still.  The  four 
men,  with  a  lighted  lantern,  entered  the 
house.  A  wild  outburst  of  singing  followed, 
which  told  us  the  same  scene  was  being 
enacted.  The  men  came  out  almost  imme 
diately,  talking  earnestly. 

Mr.  Bosman,  an  old-timer,  had  recognized 
the  man  as  Jean  La  Monte,  he  had  spoken  to 
him,  had  called  him  by  name,  but  no  sign  of 
understanding,  not  one  faint  glimmer  of 
intelligence  had  shone  from  out  those  wild 
eyes.  Mr.  Bosman  was  almost  overcome. 

"It's  just  terrible  to  see  him  that  way,  he 
was  such  a  good  man.  Poor  old  La  Monte, 
trouble  has  sure  driven  him  crazy.  How  on 
earth  he  ever  got  here  beats  me.  There  ain't 
a  thing  we  can  do  tonight.  We  couldn't 
handle  him  if  he  got  violent.  There  never 
was  a  stronger  man  in  this  country  than  Jean 
La  Monte.  My  God!  It's  awful!" 

So  it  was  arranged  that  the  Bosnians 
should  go  back  to  their  ranch  and  send  word 


144          A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

to  the  Sheriff  to  be  up  there  early  in  the 
morning  and  that  Owen  should  have  some  of 
our  men  guard  the  place  during  the  night. 

"Poor  devil,  I  don't  believe  he'll  go  away. 
He  seemed  so  suspicious  he  wouldn't  touch 
the  bread,  and  I  believe  he's  been  here  two 
or  three  days.  See  you  in  the  morning," 
and  the  Bosnians  disappeared  in  the 
darkness. 

The  thought  of  the  tragedy  with  which  we 
had  so  suddenly  come  in  touch,  weighed 
upon  us.  A  living  ghost  connected  us  with 
a  past  in  which  we  had  no  part. 

Long  after  we  had  left  the  old  place  be 
hind,  the  mad  singing  followed  us,  except 
when  it  was  drowned  by  a  sudden  crash  of 
thunder.  The  jagged  flashes  of  lightning 
illuminated  the  heavens  for  a  brief  second, 
then  left  the  world  shrouded  in  an  impene 
trable  darkness.  Rather  than  risk  going 
through  the  creek  a  second  time,  we  had 
decided  to  cut  across  country. 

The  prairies  were  broken  by  deep  gullies 
washed  and  torn  by  the  fury  of  the  summer 
storms.  By  day,  driving  was  difficult;  by 


THE  UNEXPECTED  145 

night,  it  was  hazardous  in  the  extreme,  and 
after  a  blinding  flash  which  fairly  tore  the 
heavens  apart,  we  were  forced  to  stop  the 
horses  for  fear  of  driving  into  an  unseen 
gulch.  The  horses,  headed  toward  home  and 
excited  and  nervous,  were  hard  to  control. 
We  drove  along  in  silence,  our  staring  eyes 
trying  to  pierce  the  darkness.  It  was  so 
dangerous  that  at  last  I  got  out  and  walked 
in  front  of  the  horses.  I  could  not  see;  I 
could  only  know  from  the  contour  of  the 
ground  when  we  were  near  a  gulch  or  by  my 
outstretched  hand  tell  when  we  were  near 
the  wires  of  a  fence.  After  a  time  Gordon 
took  my  place,  and  all  the  way  one  or  the 
other  walked  before  the  team.  The  light 
ning  and  thunder  were  terrific,  but  still  it 
did  not  rain.  We  were  worn  out  with 
fatigue  and  anxiety  when  we  finally  reached 
the  ranch. 

Steve  was  standing  with  his  saddle  horse 
at  the  crossing  of  the  creek,  swinging  a 
lighted  lantern.  When  he  heard  the  sound 
of  the  wheels  he  gave  a  shout. 

"Mr.  Brook!" 


146         A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

"All  right,"  Owen  called  back.  Steve 
came  towards  us. 

"What  on  earth  happened  ?  We've  all  been 
plumb  worried  to  death,  and  Madame  Brook, 
she's  most  crazy.  I've  just  sent  Fred  up  to 
the  La  Monte  place  to  look  for  you." 

"La  Monte  place !"  we  exclaimed  as  several 
of  the  boys,  attracted  by  Steve's  shout,  came 
up.  "Get  on  your  horse,"  said  Owen, 
quickly,  "and  overtake  him;  there's  a  mad 
man  up  there." 

Steve  did  not  wait  for  further  instructions, 
but  flung  himself  on  his  horse  and  tore  off 
after  Fred.  We  hurried  in  to  reassure 
Owen's  mother,  who  was  nearly  frantic. 
Later,  as  she  bade  us  "Good-night,"  she  said 
very  seriously:  "Owen,  as  soon  as  I  am  able 
I  am  going  to  Denver.  I  must  be  where  it 
is  quiet.  I  simply  cannot  stand  the  excite 
ment  here." 

As  the  rain  began  to  fall  in  torrents,  we 
heard  the  men  who  had  been  detailed  to 
guard  the  La  Monte  place  galloping  off. 

An  itinerant  tailor  had  pulled  into  the 
ranch  just  before  our  return,  and  was  peace- 


THE  UNEXPECTED  147 

fully  sleeping  in  his  wagon.  He  was  awak 
ened  when  the  horses  were  driven  into  the 
corral,  and  came  out  to  learn  the  cause  of 
the  commotion.  He  was  so  excited  when  he 
heard  that  an  insane  person  was  in  the 
vicinity  he  asked  to  sleep  at  the  bunk  house 
with  the  men.  They  tried  to  laugh  him  out 
of  his  fears,  but  his  fright  was  so  genuine 
they  told  him  to  "come  on." 

The  strangeness  of  the  whole  affair,  the 
combination  of  circumstances  and  pure  ner 
vous  and  physical  exhaustion  kept  Owen  and 
me  awake  a  long  time.  It  seemed  I  had 
scarcely  fallen  asleep  when  I  heard  someone 
knock  on  the  door  and  say: 

"Mr.  Brook,  Mr.  Brook." 

I  recognized  Mary's  voice,  and  responded 
for  Owen,  who  was  dead  asleep. 

"Mrs.  Brook,  the  crazy  man  is  down  here 
at  the  corral;  will  you  ask  Mr.  Brook  to 
come  out?" 

It  didn't  take  Owen  long  to  dress.  It  was 
about  five  o'clock,  and  from  the  window  we 
could  see  poor  old  La  Monte,  still  attired  in 
his  shirt,  sitting  in  the  door  of  the  granary 


148          A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

playing   with   a   little   cotton-wood   switch. 

How  he  had  escaped  the  men  who  had 
surrounded  the  place,  and  how  he  had  found 
his  way  to  our  ranch  were  questions  no  one 
could  answer. 

The  first  intimation  of  his  presence  came 
in  the  form  of  a  wild  yell  from  the  tailor, 
who  had  gotten  up  early  and  gone  down  to 
the  corral  to  feed  his  horses.  This  brought 
all  the  men  to  the  bunk  house  door  as  the 
terror-stricken  little  Jew  flung  himself  into 
their  arms. 

"Mem  Gott!    Dot  crazy  man  iss  here." 

"You're  the  only  crazy  man  on  this 
ranch/'  said  Bill,  taking  him  by  the  collar 
and  giving  him  a  shake.  "What  ails  you, 
anyhow?" 

"Oh,  he  iss  here,  he  iss  here,"  wailed  the 
tailor.  "He  ain't  got  on  no  clothes,  and 
we'll  all  be  kilt."  The  boys  left  him  and 
went  out  to  investigate. 

It  was  true.  La  Monte  was  there,  and 
after  a  futile  effort  on  Bill's  part  to  get  him 
to  talk  the  boys  retired  to  the  bunk  house 
and  sent  for  Owen. 


THE  UNEXPECTED  149 

"Gee,"  Bill  said  later,  "that  feller  was  the 
doggondest  lookin'  thing  I  ever  seen,  settin' 
there  in  what  was  left  of  his  shirt.  His 
legs  was  all  tore  by  the  fence  wires  or 
brambles,  his  teeth  was  chatterin'  and  he 
was  just  blue  with  cold.  His  eyes  had  a 
look  in  'em  that  give  me  the  shivers.  I 
don't  wonder  he  scart  that  there  Jew  into  a 
fit.  I  wasn't  very  anxious  to  come  clost  to 
him,  neither.  I  ain't  scart  of  anything 
that's  human,  but  he  ain't  human,  goin* 
'round  folks  dressed  like  that."  Bill  was  a 
stickler  for  convention. 

"That's  the  first  thing  a  person  usually 
does  when  he  goes  crazy,  Bill — takes  off  all 
his  clothes." 

Bill  gave  me  an  incredulous  look. 

"Gosh,  I  hope  I'll  be  killed  ridin'  or 
somethin'  and  not  lose  my  mind  first.  It 
ain't  decent." 

The  poor  demented  creature  would  not 
speak  nor  pay  any  attention  to  the  other 
men,  but  when  he  saw  Steve  he  smiled  as 
he  asked : 


150         A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

"You've  come  to  take  me  away  from  them, 
haven't  you?" 

"Yes,"  Steve  said.  "Will  you  go  with 
me  now?" 

La  Monte  stood  up. 

"Yes,  if  you  won't  let  them  get  me;  those 
witches  want  to  drag  me  back  to  hell,  but 
I've  fooled  them  this  time.  I've  almost 
caught  up  with  him  once  or  twice  and  they 
drag  me  back."  And  he  walked  off  quietly 
by  Steve's  side. 

Steve  took  him  to  the  bunkhouse,  gave 
him  some  coffee  and  made  him  lie  down  on 
his  bed.  While  Steve  sat  beside  him  La 
Monte  slept  fitfully,  but  at  the  slightest 
move  started  and  tried  to  get  up.  Steve  fell 
in  with  all  his  vagaries ;  he  promised  to  help 
him  escape  the  witches  and  to  help  him  find 
the  person  for  whom  he  seemed  to  be 
searching. 

"Where  was  he  last?"  Steve  asked,  hoping 
to  find  some  clue. 

"Why,  on  his  horse."  La  Monte  sat  up 
and  stared  wildly  into  Steve's  eyes.  "Don't 
you  know,  he's  always  on  a  horse,  a  big  black 


THE  UNEXPECTED  151 

horse.  He's  there  just  ahead  of  me,  he's 
always  just  ahead  of  me,"  and  he  jumped  up 
and  started  toward  the  door. 

Steve  calmed  him  again  and  he  fell  back 
on  the  pillows  and  lay  there  in  silence,  his 
eyes  fixed  on  the  ceiling. 

Six  crestfallen  cow-punchers  returned 
from  the  La  Monte  place.  No  one  knew 
when  the  man  had  left  the  camp,  no  one  had 
even  caught  a  glimpse  of  him.  His  clothes 
they  had  found  in  the  well. 

The  Sheriff  and  his  posse  came  at  last. 
Steve  kept  his  hand  on  the  arm  of  La  Monte 
as  they  approached  the  wagon.  It  was  a 
tense  moment;  we  were  all  watching  but 
hidden,  fearful  lest  some  trifle  would  arouse 
the  demon  of  violence.  The  men  were  all 
armed. 

La  Monte  put  his  foot  up  on  the  step  of 
the  wagon,  then  took  it  off,  shook  his  head, 
turned  and  walked  toward  the  granary.  We 
held  our  breath.  Steve  alone  followed  him. 

"Come  on;  you're  going  with  me,  aren't 
you?" 


152          A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

There  was  no  reply.  With  his  eyes  fixed 
on  the  ground  La  Monte  ignored  Steve  com 
pletely.  Suddenly  he  stopped  and  picked  up 
something,  the  little  cotton-wood  switch  to 
which  the  leaves  still  clung.  Holding  it 
tightly,  he  walked  back  to  the  wagon,  got  in, 
Steve  by  his  side,  and  they  drove  off. 

They  were  scarcely  out  of  sight  when 
Charley  came  dashing  up  with  sixty  dollars 
in  gold  which  he  had  found  under  a  pile  of 
mud  at  the  La  Monte  place.  Owen  sent 
him  to  overtake  the  wagon. 

"Is  this  yours?"  Charley  asked,  as  he 
rode  up  to  them,  holding  the  money  out 
toward  La  Monte,  who  only  shook  his  head 
and  looked  off  across  the  prairie.  Charley 
turned  the  money  over  to  Steve. 

When  they  reached  the  town,  La  Monte 
seemed  to  become  confused  and  suspicious. 
He  would  not  speak.  He  was  judged  insane 
and  committed  to  the  asylum.  Still  in 
charge  of  the  Sheriff,  Steve  and  two  other 
men,  he  was  put  on  the  train. 

"Where  did  you  get  him?"  the  conductor 
asked  the  Sheriff. 


THE  UNEXPECTED  153 

"Up  in  the  country,  at  the  A  L  ranch." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  know  that  place;  it  used  to  be 
the  old  Bohm " 

He  never  finished  his  sentence,  for  La 
Monte,  with  a  cry,  sprang  to  his  feet,  looked 
wildly  about,  brushed  them  aside  and 
jumped  through  the  window. 

The  train  was  stopped,  and  they  ran  back 
to  where  he  had  fallen.  He  had  broken  his 
leg,  but  in  spite  of  that  fought  them  off  with 
superhuman  strength.  With  the  help  of  the 
train  crew,  he  was  overpowered  at  last, 
bound  and  taken  back  to  the  train. 

Steve  told  us  later  it  was  the  most  terrible 
experience  he  had  ever  been  through. 

"I  just  couldn't  stand  the  look  in  his  eyes 
when  they  got  him  to  the  asylum.  He 
didn't  say  nothin',  just  kept  moanin'  all  the 
time.  He'd  been  there  for  five  years,  and 
no  one  knew  how  he  got  away.  I  suppose 
it  would  a  come  anyhow,  but  it  seemed  like 
it  was  the  mention  of  Bohm's  name  that  set 
him  off." 


X 

AROUND  THE  CHRISTMAS  FIRE 

WITHIN  a  radius  of  many  miles  there 
were  only  three  small  children,  and 
about  them  our  Christmas  festivi 
ties  revolved.    They  furnished  the  excuse 
for  the  tree,  but  no  work  was  too  pressing, 
no  snow  too  deep  to  prevent  the  boys  from 
bringing   the    Christmas    tree   and    greens 
from  a  small  clump  of  pines  which  stood  on 
top  of  a  distant  hill,  like  a  dark  green  island 
in  the  midst  of  the  prairie  sea. 

Early  on  Christmas  morning  Steve  started 
out  with  gaily  bedecked  baskets  for  the 
Mexicans,  and  at  the  ranch  the  greatest 
excitement  prevailed.  I  dashed  franctically 
between  the  bunkhouse  and  our  kitchen  to 
be  certain  that  nothing  was  forgotten.  The 
big  turkeys  were  stuffed  to  the  point  of 
bursting,  all  the  "trimmings"  were  in  readi 
ness,  and  the  last  savory  mince  pies  were 
in  the  ovens. 

164 


AROUND  THE  CHRISTMAS  FIRE  165 

Behind  the  closed  doors  of  the  living  room 
the  tall  tree,  festooned  with  ropes  of  pop 
corn  and  garlands  of  gaudy  paper  chains, 
glittered  and  glowed  with  its  tinsel  orna 
ments  and  candles. 

Owen  divided  his  attention  between  his 
"Santa  Glaus"  costume  and  pails  of  water, 
which  he  placed  near  the  tree  in  case  it 
should  catch  fire. 

The  boys  spent  most  of  the  morning 
"glicking  up"  and  put  on  their  red  neckties, 
the  outward  and  visible  sign  of  some  impor 
tant  event,  then  passed  the  remaining  hours 
sitting  around  anxiously  awaiting  the  arrival 
of  the  guests  of  honor  and — dinner. 

Sometimes  members  of  the  family  were 
with  us  or  some  friends  were  lured  from  the 
city  by  the  promise  of  a  "really,  truly 
Christmas,"  and  there  were  always  a  few 
lonely  bachelors  to  whom  the  holidays,  other 
wise,  would  have  brought  only  memories. 

Christmas  was  our  one  great  annual  cele 
bration,  a  day  of  cheer  and  happiness,  in 
which  everyone  joyously  shared.  It  was  a 
new  experience  in  the  life  of  the  undomes- 


156          A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

ticated  cow-puncher,  but  he  took  as  much 
satisfaction  in  the  fact  that  "Our  tree  was 
a  whole  lot  prettier  than  the  one  I've  saw 
in  town"  as  though  he  had  won  a  roping 
contest. 

Each  year  the  children  and  their  parents 
were  invited  for  Christmas  dinner.  They 
might  be  delayed  en  route  by  deep  snow 
drifts,  out  of  which  they  had  to  dig  them 
selves,  but  they  always  arrived  eventually. 
We  came  to  have  a  sincere  affection  for 
those  children,  gentle  little  wild  flowers  of 
the  prairie. 

They  were  very  sweet,  perfectly  ingenu 
ous,  gazing  in  round-eyed  wonder  upon 
things  which  to  most  of  us  were  common 
place. 

I  never  thought  of  its  being  anything  new 
in  their  brief  experience  until  at  dinner  one 
of  the  small  boys  turned  to  his  mother  after 
tasting  a  piece  of  celery  and  said,  "Look, 
Mamma,  'tain't  cabbage  and  'tain't  onions. 
What  is  it?" 

They  positively  trembled  with  excitement 
as  they  learned  to  read  and  laboriously 


AROUND  THE  CHRISTMAS  FIRE  157 

spelled  out  the  words  in  the  simple  books 
we  gave  them.  They  craved  knowledge  as  a 
starving  man  craves  bread. 

As  Santa  Glaus,  Owen  wore  a  ruddy  mask 
with  a  long  white  beard  and  bristling  eye 
brows,  a  fur  cap  pulled  down  over  his  ears, 
heavy  felt  boots  and  his  long  fur  overcoat. 
He  looked  and  acted  the  part  so  perfectly 
the  children  for  years  insisted  that  "there 
is  a  Santa  Glaus  'cause  we've  seen  him." 

The  first  Christmas  everyone  was  gath 
ered  about  the  tree  waiting  for  this  myste 
rious  personage  to  appear  when  Owen  sud 
denly  thought  of  bells ;  he  must  have  sleigh- 
bells.  No  self-respecting  Santa  Glaus  was 
complete  without  them.  I  was  in  despair; 
there  wasn't  a  sleigh-bell  within  a  hundred 
miles,  but  Owen  insisted  that  he  must 
jingle.  At  last  after  a  great  deal  of  argu 
ment  and  searching  for  something  which 
would  give  forth  bell-like  sounds,  he  finally 
pranced  out  before  the  spell-bound  audience 
with  my  silver  table  bell  sewed  to  the  top  of 
one  of  his  boots.  He  had  to  prance  because 
the  bell  refused  to  tinkle  unless  it  was 


158          A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

shaken,  and  for  the  ensuing  hour  he  pranced 
so  vigorously  that  between  the  exercise  and 
the  fur  coat  he  nearly  perished  from  heat. 

After  dinner  we  all  assembled  in  the  big 
living-room,  where  my  disguised  husband 
presented  each  person  with  some  little  gift 
and  ridiculous  toy,  accompanied  by  a  still 
more  ridiculous  rhyme,  over  which  the  boys 
roared.  They  enjoyed  the  jokes  most  of  all. 
No  one  escaped ;  Owen  and  I  came  in  for  our 
share  with  the  rest.  Mine  usually  bore 
veiled  or  open  allusion  to  my  particular  pet 
lamb  which  had  developed  strong  butting 
proclivities.  He  butted  friend  and  foe  indis 
criminately,  so  that  even  my  fond  eyes  were 
not  blinded  to  his  faults,  and  Owen's  re 
marks  were  most  uncomplimentary  after  he 
had  acted  as  a  shield  for  us  when  "Jackie" 
had  chased  my  sister  and  me  all  about  the 
yard. 

Later  in  the  afternoon  everybody  scat 
tered — our  house  guests  amused  themselves 
as  they  chose,  riding,  driving  or  hunting 
coyotes,  the  boys  rode  over  to  the  neighbor 
ing  ranches  or  went  to  "town,"  the  store  and 


AROUND  THE  CHRISTMAS  FIRE  159 

kaloon  at  the  railroad  station  sixteen  miles 
away,  but  I  spent  an  hour  or  two  playing 
with  the  children  or  reading  to  them  until 
their  father  "brought  the  team  around," 
their  happy  mother  climbed  up  on  the  high 
seat  of  the  lumber-wagon  and,  clinging  to 
dolls,  trains  and  toys,  three  blissfully  happy 
but  perfectly  exhausted  little  children  were 
wrapped  up  in  quilts  and  coats,  stowed  into 
the  back  of  the  wagon  and  started  on  the 
twenty-mile  drive  "back  home." 

It  had  been  an  eventful  day  in  their  short, 
barren  lives,  but  for  us  it  was  the  best  part 
of  Christmas,  except  the  evening,  when  we 
all  gathered  about  the  big  fireplace  which 
drew  everyone  into  its  circle  like  a  magnet. 

There  was  nothing  prosaic  about  those 
who  grouped  themselves  around  the  great 
stone  fireplaces  on  the  ranches  in  the  old 
days.  Here  again  were  found  those  con 
trasts,  so  striking  and  unexpected;  univer 
sity  men  who  had  come  West  for  adventure 
or  investment,  men  of  wealth  whose  predis 
position  to  weak  lungs  had  sent  them  in 
exile  to  the  wilderness,  modest  young 


160          A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

Englishmen,  those  younger  sons  so  often 
found  in  the  most  out-of-the-way  corners  of 
the  earth,  and  who,  through  the  sudden 
demise  of  a  near  relative,  had  such  a  start 
ling  way  of  becoming  earls  and  lords  over 
night ;  adventurous  Scotchmen,  brilliant 
young  Irishmen,  all  smoking  contentedly 
there  in  the  firelight  and  discussing  the 
"isms"  and  "ologies"  and  every  other  sub 
ject  under  heaven.  But  most  interesting  of 
all  were  their  own  reminiscences. 

We  were  all  sitting  around  the  fire  one 
Christmas  night  when  the  conversation 
turned  on  adventure,  and  everyone  promised 
to  tell  the  most  thrilling  experience  he  had 
ever  had. 

Two  of  the  men  were  lying  on  the  big  bear 
skin  before  the  fire.  One,  a  mining  engineer, 
told  of  having  been  captured  by  bandits  and 
held  for  a  ransom,  in  some  remote  corner  of 
Mexico  where  he  had  gone  to  examine  a  very 
famous  mine.  The  other,  a  surveyor  for  the 
Union  Pacific  Railroad,  had  been  lost  during 
a  storm  and,  becoming  snow-blind,  crawled 
for  five  miles  on  his  hands  and  knees,  feel- 


AROUND  THE  CHRISTMAS  FIRE  161 

ing  the  trail  with  naked,  half  frozen  hands 
until  he  reached  the  creek  down  which  he 
waded  until  he  came  to  the  camp. 

In  a  big  chair,  the  firelight  playing  over 
her  slender  figure,  sat  Janet  Courtland,  an 
Eastern  woman,  who  as  a  mere  girl  had  come 
West  with  her  young  husband  and  had  gone 
up  into  Montana  where  he  had  bought  a 
large  cattle  ranch. 

"Come  on,  Mrs.  Courtland,  you're  next," 
the  Surveyor  said  as  he  finished  his  story. 

"Well,"  Janet  began,  "Will  and  I  have  had 
so  many  experiences  I  scarcely  know  which 
was  the  most  exciting,  but  I  think  our  en 
counter  with  the  Indians  was  the  most  thrill 
ing  from  first  to  last. 

"Will  had  to  go  into  Miles  City  on  business 
and  I  went  with  him  for  great  unrest  had 
been  reported  among  the  Indians  and  he 
didn't  want  to  leave  me  on  the  ranch  alone. 
We  had  been  in  town  only  a  few  days  when 
we  heard  that  they  were  on  the  war  path  and 
Will  felt  he  must  go  back  to  the  ranch.  He 
wanted  me  to  stay  in  town,  but  I  wouldn't. 
If  he  was  going  back  I  was  going  with  him, 


162          A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

so  we  started  in  the  buck-board  on  that  long 
eighty-five  mile  drive.  I'll  never  forget  it. 
The  day  was  fearfully  hot  and  we  were  con 
stantly  looking  out  for  Indians.  We  had 
gone  about  half-way,  when  we  came  over  the 
top  of  a  hill  and  saw  a  band  of  Indians  just 
below  us.  They  saw  us  before  we  could  turn 
back,  we  had  to  go  on,  and  as  we  came  to 
wards  them  they  formed  into  two  lines  so 
that  we  had  to  drive  between  them.  It  was 
horrible."  And  Janet  gave  a  shiver  at  the 
recollection.  "I'll  never  forget  as  long  as  I 
live  those  frightful,  painted  faces.  Not  an 
Indian  moved;  we  passed  through  the  line 
and  had  gone  a  short  distance  beyond,  when 
we  heard  the  report  of  a  gun.  Will  clapped 
his  hand  to  his  side  and  said :  'My  God,  I'm 
shot.  Drive  as  fast  as  you  can' — and  he 
threw  the  lines  to  me. 

"I  lashed  the  horses  and  we  fairly  tore. 
Everything  was  still,  there  was  only  that  one 
shot,  the  Indians  made  no  attempt  to  follow 
us.  We  did  not  speak.  Will  was  lying  back 
in  the  buckboard,  his  hand  pressed  to  his 
side.  When  we  had  gone  out  of  sight  of  the 


AROUND  THE  CHRISTMAS  FIRE  168 

Indians  I  stopped  the  horses  and  asked  Will 
where  he  was  struck. 

"  'In  the  side ;  I  can  feel  the  blood  oozing 
through  my  fingers/  he  said.  He  took  his 
hand  away  and  gave  an  exclamation  as  he 
looked  at  it.  It  was  wet  but  not  with  blood. 
We  could  not  find  the  sign  of  a  wound.  We 
got  out  to  investigate  and  discovered — that 
just  as  we  passed  the  Indians  the  cork  flew 
out  of  a  bottle  of  root  beer  we  had  in  the 
back  of  the  buckboard  and  struck  him  in  the 
side.  Poor  old  Willie,  no  wonder  he  thought 
he  was  shot,"  and  Janet  smiled  at  her  hus 
band,  who  laughed  with  the  rest  of  us. 

"Now,  Owen,"  he  said,  "I  know  some  of  the 
things  you've  been  through,  so  you  can't  beg 
off,"  and  Owen  began  his  story. 

"In  the  spring  of  '81  I  came  West  to  visit 
my  brother,  Ed.,  on  his  ranch  in  Wyoming. 
I  was  a  tenderfoot,  never  having  been  on  the 
plains  before — and  yet — I  had  scarcely  ar 
rived  when  I  announced  that  the  one  thing  I 
wanted  to  do  was  to  kill  a  buffalo.  He  told 
me  that  if  my  heart  was  set  on  it  I  should 
have  the  chance,  but  that  it  was  dangerous 


164         A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

sport  even  for  experienced  hunters,  as  a 
buffalo  frequently  turns  and  gores  the  horse 
before  it  can  get  out  of  the  way. 

"The  very  next  day  the  dead  body  of  a 
professional  hunter  was  brought  to  the 
ranch.  He  had  wounded  a  buffalo  bull  which 
had  turned,  caught  with  his  horn  the  horse 
he  was  riding,  thrown  him  to  the  ground  and 
gored  the  hunter  to  death.  The  sight  of  his 
mangled  body  was  shocking  and  made  a  ter 
rible  impression  on  my  mind,  but  my  purpose 
was  not  changed. 

"My  brother  assigned  Al.  Turpin  the  re 
sponsibility  of  serving  as  my  guide.  He  was 
one  of  the  best  riders  on  the  ranch,  cool- 
headed  and  a  good  shot.  We  took  breakfast 
before  daylight  in  order  to  get  an  early  start. 
After  riding  a  considerable  distance  three 
dark  objects  were  discovered  far  away  on  a 
hill  which  sloped  toward  us.  A  pair  of  field 
glasses  confirmed  the  opinion  that  they  were 
buffalo  lying  down.  We  rode  in  their  direc 
tion  and  kept  out  of  sight,  except  as  we 
peered  cautiously  over  the  top  of  each 
succeeding  ridge  until  it  was  possible  to 


AROUND  THE  CHRISTMAS  FIRE  165 

approach  no  nearer  in  concealment,  when  we 
rode  to  the  top  of  the  nearest  hill  and  were 
in  full  view.  The  buffalo  saw  us  and  quick 
as  lightning  were  on  their  feet  running  away. 
We  sent  our  horses  at  full  speed  down  the 
slope,  across  a  level  piece  of  ground  and  up 
the  hill  after  them.  We  were  gaining  rapidly. 
My  horse  was  the  faster  of  the  two  and  was 
in  the  lead.  He  was  one  of  the  best  trained 
cow  ponies  I  have  ever  ridden  and  was  my 
brother's  favorite  for  cutting  out  cattle. 

"When  about  thirty  yards  behind  the 
buffalo,  one  stopped.  The  bit  I  was  using 
was  severe.  I  pulled  and  threw  my  horse 
back  on  his  haunches.  The  buffalo  was  an 
immense  bull.  He  appeared  to  me  as  big  as  a 
mountain.  He  turned  facing  me,  his  body  at 
an  angle,  cocked  his  head  on  the  side,  then 
threw  it  toward  the  ground  and,  quicker  than 
a  flash,  came  down  the  hill  like  a  landslide. 

"My  horse  struggled  against  the  bit  and 
tried  to  jump  toward  the  buffalo  and  turn 
him  as  he  would  a  steer.  I  tried  to  swing  his 
head  away  and  dug  my  spurs  into  his  sides 
to  make  him  move,  but  he  did  not  understand 


166          A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

why  he  should  run  from  a  buffalo.  He  did 
respond  a  little  and  turned  so  that  his 
haunches  were  toward  the  great  brute  com 
ing  down  the  hill.  » 

'The  head  of  the  buffalo  was  in  striking 
distance.  He  looked  like  a  great  devil.  His 
beadlike  eyes  flashed  fire.  The  next  instant 
I  expected  the  horse  to  be  pitched  down  the 
hill.  I  could  feel  myself  thrown  into  the  air 
and  then  gored  to  death  when  I  struck  the 
ground.  I  could  see  the  mangled  body  of  the 
dead  hunter. 

"While  my  six-shooter  was  a  powerful 
gun,  I  knew  that  if  I  should  shoot  the  brute 
in  the  head,  the  ball  would  not  go  through 
the  mass  of  matted  hair  and  the  thick  skull. 
Still  there  was  nothing  else  to  do.  I  thought 
my  time  had  come.  In  order  to  hit  him  at  all 
it  was  necessary  to  shoot  over  my  left  arm. 
In  my  haste  I  pulled  the  trigger  too  soon. 
The  loud  report  startled  the  horse  into  a  run 
and  turned  the  buffalo.  Its  discharge,  so 
near  my  head,  gave  me  a  terrible  shock.  I 
thought  the  shot  had  blown  away  all  the 
right  aide  of  my  head  and  I  put  up  my 


AROUND  THE  CHRISTMAS  FIRE  167 

hand  to  keep  my  brains  from  falling  out,  but 
there  were  neither  brains  nor  blood  on  my 
hand.  The  bullet  had  just  grazed  my  head 
and  gone  through  the  rim  of  my  hat.  That 
brute  looked  like  an  infuriated  demon.  I 
couldn't  have  been  more  frightened  if  I  had 
met  the  devil  himself  at  the  mouth  of  hell. 

"When  it  was  all  over,  I  was  not  in  a  mood 
for  challenging  him  again,  but  as  he  loped 
away,  Al.  ran  his  horse  abreast  and  from  a 
safe  distance  put  a  shot  into  his  brisket.  He 
fell  dead.  Believe  me,  I  have  had  many  close 
calls,  but  that  was  the  one  time  in  all  my 
life  when  I  was  really  scared." 

"What  extraordinary  experiences  people 
do  have  in  this  country,"  Will  Mason  ex 
claimed,  as  he  leaned  forward  to  light  a  fresh 
cigar.  "Speaking  of  Ed.  reminds  me  of  a 
strange  coincidence  which  happened  the 
year  after  he  came  West. 

"We  had  been  together  the  year  before  in 
New  York,  where  we  had  met  a  chap  named 
Courtney  Drake.  He  was  a  Yale  man  and  a 
member  of  the  University  Club,  so  we  saw 
quite  a  good  deal  of  him.  He  was  very  con- 


168          A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

genial  and  one  of  the  most  lovable  fellows  I 
ever  knew.  He  was  married  but  he  seldom 
spoke  of  his  wife  and  we  never  met  her. 

"One  morning  we  picked  up  the  paper  and 
were  horrified  to  read  that  Mrs.  Courtney 
Drake  had  shot  her  maid.  There  it  was  in 
glaring  headlines,  the  whole  wretched  affair. 
The  Drakes  were  one  of  the  oldest  and 
wealthiest  families  in  New  York  and  it  was 
spicy  reading  for  the  scandal  lovers  I  assure 
you. 

"It  seems  that  Drake  had  gotten  mixed  up 
with  this  woman  when  he  first  came  out  of 
college  and  in  order  to  force  him  to  marry 
her  she  told  him  that  she  was  soon  to  have  a 
child.  He  wouldn't  believe  it,  and  how  she 
worked  it  I  don't  know.  She  must  have  been 
mighty  clever,  for  she  and  her  maid  got  hold 
of  a  baby  somewhere  and  she  made  Courtney 
believe  it  was  hers  and  that  he  was  the 
father — so  he  married  her. 

"They  had  only  been  married  a  short  time 
when  the  maid  began  to  demand  large  sums 
of  'hush  money'  and  Mrs.  Drake  gave  her 
whatever  she  asked,  for  she  was  in  mortal 


AROUND  THE  CHRISTMAS  FIRE  169 

dread  of  having  Drake  discover  the  truth. 
The  girl  found  blackmail  so  profitable  she 
became  more  and  more  insistent  in  her 
demands  and  nearly  drove  Mrs.  Drake  wild. 
At  last  she  could  endure  it  no  longer  and  in 
a  perfect  frenzy,  shot  and  killed  the  maid 
and  then  the  whole  thing  came  out.  Mrs. 
Drake  was  sent  to  prison,  where  she  died 
later,  but  Courtney  vanished  utterly  after 
the  trial — no  one  knew  what  became  of  him. 

"The  next  fall  Ed.  and  I  came  West  and 
two  years  later  were  up  in  the  Jackson's  Hole 
country  with  a  party,  shooting.  Ed.  and  one 
of  the  guides  went  out  one  morning  to  get 
some  ducks,  but  in  a  short  time  they  came 
back  to  camp  carrying  the  dead  body  of 
Courtney  Drake.  They  had  come  across  his 
body  on  the  shore  of  a  small  lake,  lying  face 
down  in  the  mud.  There  was  a  single  bullet 
hole  in  the  back  of  his  head. 

'Think  of  his  having  been  found  out  there 
in  the  wilderness  by  the  only  man  in  the 
country  who  knew  who  he  was !  Talk  about 
chance,"  Will  sighed,  "Poor  devil,  he  was 
living  out  there  under  an  assumed  name. 


170          A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

His  family  had  no  idea  where  he  was.  Ed. 
notified  them  and  then  took  his  body  East. 

"Just  after  his  death  Drake's  partner  pro 
duced  a  bill  of  sale  for  the  entire  ranch  and 
took  possession  of  it.  Everyone  suspected 
him  of  the  murder,  but  it  couldn't  be  proved* 
About  three  years  later  the  man  killed  hig 
wife  and  at  the  time  of  his  conviction  the 
question  of  Drake's  murder  was  brought  up 
and  he  confessed.  Isn't  it  strange  the  way 
things  happen?"  Will's  question  was  gen 
eral.  "What  on  earth  do  you  suppose  sent 
Ed.  Brook  into  the  Jackson's  Hole  country 
at  that  one  time  of  all  others  ?" 

No  one  answered. 

"I  wonder  if  all  new  countries  abound  in 
such  tragic  mysteries?"  The  Surveyor 
looked  up  at  me. 

'What  tragic  mysteries  have  you  encoun- 
tered,  Mrs.  Brook,  that  makes  you  speak  so 
feelingly?" 

Just  then  the  clock  struck  twelve  and  I 
got  up. 

"It's  too  late  for  more  mysteries,  it's  time 
to  go  to  bed — and  we  don't  want  tragedies 


AROUND  THE  CHRISTMAS  FIRE  171 

to  keep  us  wide  awake  on  Christmas  night." 
"Oh,  come  on  Esther,  tell  us  your  most 
thrilling    experience,"    they    begged.      "We 
won't  move  a  step  until  you  do." 

"Marrying  Owen,"  I  replied,  looking  over 
at  my  unsuspecting  husband,  "I've  never  had 
a  chance  to  get  my  breath  since." 

And  amid  a  shout  of  laughter  the  Christ 
mas  party  broke  up. 


XI 
TED 

TED  landed  in  our  midst  with  all  the 
attendant  violence  of  a  meteor. 
He  didn't  arrive,  he  landed,  bag  and 
baggage,  and  until  his  departure  weeks  later 
our  tranquil  existence  was  sufficiently  hectic 
to  suit  even  Bill. 

After  numerous  letters  from  his  doting 
aunt,  we  reluctantly  consented  to  look  after 
Ted  while  she  was  in  Europe  recuperating 
from  a  nervous  break-down.  At  the  end  of 
the  first  week,  we  understood  why  Aunt 
Elizabeth  found  recuperation  necessary,  and 
I  suggested  to  Owen,  it  might  be  well  to  en 
gage  our  passage  on  a  later  steamer,  for  I 
had  a  premonition  that  my  own  nerves  might 
require  a  rest  after  two  months  of  Ted's 
strenuous  companionship. 

He  wasn't  bad ;  there  was  not  a  bad  thing 
about  him.    He  was  just  overflowing  with 
172 


TED  173 

youth  and  energy,  which  had  been  pent  up 
for  years,  between  boarding  school  in  the 
winter  and  Newport  in  the  summer. 

Motherless,  fatherless,  rich,  neglected  or 
over-indulged  by  a  none  too  wise  aunt,  Ted 
was  an  appealing  young  person,  a  character 
easily  to  be  made  or  marred  by  circum 
stances. 

He  looked  like  a  member  of  the  celestial 
choir — blue-eyed,  fair-haired  and  mild — but 
he  produced  the  effect  of  a  Kansas  cyclone. 

There  was  nothing  he  did  not  see,  there 
was  nothing  he  did  not  hear  and  there  was 
nothing  he  did  not  do.  Even  on  eighty  thou 
sand  acres  of  land  his  activities  were  eome- 
what  limited. 

He  was  wildly  enthusiastic  about  the  West, 
fascinated  by  the  men,  and  was  BilPs 
shadow,  so  we  promptly  turned  him  over  to 
those  "rough  persons"  Aunt  Elizabeth  had 
especially  hoped  that  he  might  avoid,  to  get 
it  all  out  of  his  system. 

"Let  him  stay  at  the  bunk-house,"  Owen 
advised  after  Ted  had  besought  me  to  allow 
him  to  stay  with  the  men.  "It  will  do  him 


174         A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

more  good  than  anything  else  in  the  world, 
if  he  has  the  right  stuff  in  him." 

Ted  stood  on  the  porch,  uneasily  shifting 
from  one  foot  to  the  other,  when  I  came  out 
of  the  office. 

"All  right,  Ted,  Mr.  Brook  and  I  are  per 
fectly  willing  for  you  to  stay  with  the  men, 
if  you  really  want  to." 

He  hopped  up  and  down  and  almost  cm- 
braced  me  in  his  joy. 

"Oh,  thank  you,  Mrs.  Brook."  "You  see," 
he  explained,  carefully,  "I've  seen  people  like 
you  and  Mr.  Brook  all  my  life,  but  I  never 
had  the  chance  to  be  with  real  cow-punchers 
before.  Evidently,  from  Ted's  point  of  view, 
Owen  and  I  were  very  commonplace  individ 
uals  compared  to  these  heroes  of  the  prairie, 
and  I  laughed  to  myself  as  he  bounded  down 
the  steps  to  break  the  joyful  news  to  Bill 
that  he  was  to  share  his  bed  and  board. 

The  next  day  we  had  to  go  to  town  to 
meet  some  prospective  wool  buyers,  and, 
after  having  his  breakfast  interrupted  five 
diff erent  times  by  Ted's  dashing  in  to  see  if 
we  were  ready,  Owen  was  moved  to  inquire 


TED  175 

finally,  "What  on  earth  is  on  the  boy's  mind 
now?" 

"His  outfit,"  I  answered.  "He's  been  plan 
ning  it  for  days ;  wishes  to  select  it  himself 
and  we  are  not  to  see  it  until  we  get  home." 

That  was  a  wise  stipulation  of  Ted's,  for 
if  we  had  seen  it,  we  should  never  have  been 
able  to  get  home. 

He  put  it  on  as  soon  as  we  reached  the 
ranch,  and  when  he  finally  emerged,  the 
flaming  sunset  paled  with  chagrin  at  its 
futile  effort  of  years. 

The  "outfit"  consisted  of  tan  corduroy 
trousers,  chaps  of  long  silky  angora  wool, 
which  had  been  dyed  a  brilliant  orange,  a 
shirt  of  vivid  green,  a  bright  red  silk  hand 
kerchief  for  his  neck,  an  enormous  Stetson 
hat,  high-heeled  tan  boots,  silver  studded 
belt  and  huge  spurs. 

We  gasped  when  we  saw  him,  but  he 
was  so  intent  on  showing  himself  to  Bill, 
as  to  be  utterly  unconscious  of  the  effect  he 
produced. 

We  followed  him  into  the  yard  where  the 
boys  were  waiting  the  call  to  supper.  Bill 


176         A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

looked  up  from  the  quirt  he  was  braiding  and 
blinked. 

"Gosh !  I  thought  the  sun  had  set  an  hour 
ago,"  he  remarked. 

"No,"  Ted  laughingly  responded,  giving 
him  a  push,  "but  he's  going  to  'set*  now," 
and  he  threw  himself  down  by  Bill's  side. 
"I  knew  you  fellows  would  guy  me,  but  all 
the  same  I  think  this  outfit's  great,"  and  he 
surveyed  himself  with  infinite  pride  and 
satisfaction. 

"It's  all  right,"  said  Bill,  taking  in  all  the 
details  of  the  resplendent  costume,  and  look 
ing  up  at  Owen  and  me  with  twinkling  eyes, 
"I  like  somethin'  a  little  gay  myself;  but 
round  here  where  everything's  green,  we 
won't  be  able  to  tell  you  from  a  bunch  of 
soap-weed,"  and  Ted  good  naturedly  joined 
in  the  laugh  at  his  own  expense. 

"Wouldn't  his  Aunt  Elizabeth  die  of  heart- 
failure  if  she  could  see  him  now?"  I  asked 
Owen  as  we  went  into  the  house. 

"She  certainly  would,"  he  answered,  "but 
we'll  trust  to  luck  and  let  Nature  take  its 
course." 


TED  177 

Everything,  including  Nature,  took  its 
course  rapidly  with  Ted,  and  for  the  next 
few  weeks  wise  prairie  dogs,  rabbits  and 
rattle-snakes  stayed  in  their  holes.  By  the 
end  of  his  stay  that  energetic  young  person 
had  enough  rattle-snake  skins  to  provide 
belts  and  hat-bands  for  all  of  New  York,  and 
scores  of  live  prairie-dogs  he  had  trapped  to 
be  shipped  to  his  aunt's  place  in  Newport. 

I  tried  to  picture  the  joy  of  Aunt  Elizabeth 
and  her  neighbors  when  they  found  informal 
prairie-dog  towns  in  the  midst  of  their  for 
mal  gardens.  If  life  is  measured  by  exper 
iences,  a  few  additional  years  were  in  store 
for  Newport. 

Bill  taught  Ted  to  shoot  and  he  spent 
hours  and  a  fortune  shooting  at  old  tin  cans 
on  a  post  before  Bill  finally  consented  to  say : 

"I've  saw  fellers  do  worse,"  the  sweetest 
praise  that  ever  fell  on  mortal  ears,  judging 
by  Ted's  expression. 

And,  then,  Owen  went  to  New  Mexico  to 
buy  some  sheep  and  Bohm  came  to  sleep  on 
a  claim. 

This  claim  was  one  over  which  Owen  and 


178         A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

Bohm  had  been  having  a  controversy  for 
months.  It  had  been  included  in  the  sale  of 
the  ranch,  and  after  one  of  our  most  im 
portant  sheep  camps  had  been  built  upon  it, 
Owen  discovered  that  Bohm  could  not  give 
a  deed  to  it,  as  he  had  not  made  final  proof 
on  the  land. 

Bohm  never  ceased  to  regret  having  sold 
the  ranch,  and  had  never  forgiven  Owen  for 
buying  it  and  making  him  live  up  to  his  con 
tract,  so  was  only  too  glad  of  the  opportunity 
to  cause  him  all  the  trouble  possible.  Time 
after  time  he  promised  to  come  out  and 
"prove  up",  but  he  never  came,  so  although 
I  was  most  anxious  to  have  him  come,  I  was 
far  from  pleased  to  have  him  about  when 
Owen  was  away. 

Ted,  however,  was  overjoyed;  he  seemed 
to  feel  that  Providence  had  arranged  Bohm's 
visit  to  the  ranch  for  his  especial  entertain 
ment,  and  from  the  moment  the  old  chap 
arrived  Ted  dogged  his  footsteps. 

At  first,  old  Bohm  seemed  quite  flattered 
and  laughed  and  joked  with  him,  praised  his 
shooting,  told  him  stories  of  the  Indian  days, 


TED  179 

promised  to  show  him  the  underground 
passage  to  an  abandoned  stage  station,  but 
later  he  became  annoyed,  for  no  clinging  burr 
ever  clung  more  closely  than  Ted.  He 
scarcely  allowed  Bohm  to  get  out  of  his  sight 
for  one  moment. 

How  much  the  boy  had  heard  of  old 
Bohm's  history  I  did  not  know,  but  I  con 
cluded  a  few  rumors  had  reached  those  ever- 
attentive  ears,  for  one  day  he  came  in  fairly 
beaming. 

"Gosh !  Pudge  and  Soapy  haven't  got  any 
thing  on  me,  they've  only  seen  Buffalo  Bill 
in  a  show,  and  I'm  right  in  the  same  house 
with  a  man  that's  a  holy  terror!" 

"What  do  you  mean,  Ted?"  I  askted, 
anxious  to  find  out  how  much  he  had  heard. 

"Oh,  you  know  well  enough,  Mrs.  Brook," 
he  laughed,  going  to  the  door  as  he  saw  old 
Bohm  on  his  way  to  the  barn.  "Yon  can't 
fool  me.  Gee!  I  wouldn't  have  missed  him 
for  the  world.  The  fellows'll  just  be  sick 
when  I  tell  them." 

"The  fellows"  were  evidently  "Pudge"  and 
"Soapy",  his  two  chums  at  St.  Paul's, 


180         A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

"Pudge"  because  of  "his  shape,"  as  Ted  ex 
plained,  and  "Soapy",  whose  parental  mil 
lions  came  from  the  manufacturing  of  soap. 

The  game  between  the  boy  and  Bohm  was 
amusing.  Clever  as  the  old  chap  was,  he 
couldn't  evade  Ted's  watchful  eye.  If  Bohm 
thought  him  miles  away,  he  suddenly  ap 
peared  with  such  an  unconscious  air  of  inno 
cence  he  disarmed  all  suspicion,  but  he  made 
Bohm  uneasy. 

"Quit  campin'  on  the  old  man's  trail,  Kid," 
said  Bill  one  evening  at  the  corral  after  Ted 
had  driven  Bohm  to  the  bunk-house  to  escape 
his  questions.  "You're  gettin'  on  his  nerves; 
let  him  go  and  sleep  on  his  claim  and  get 
through  with  it.  You  and  me's  got  to  hunt 
horses  tomorrow,  anyways." 

Ted  cheerfully  acquiesced,  and  old  Bohm 
loaded  his  wagon  alone  and  drove  toward  his 
claim  in  peace. 

The  next  morning  very  early,  I  heard  Bill 
calling  Ted.  No  Ted  appeared,  and  I  went 
out  to  see  where  he  was. 

"Where  do  you  reckon  that  crazy  kid's  went 
now?"  demanded  Bill,  impatient  to  start. 


TED  181 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know,  Bill,  hunting 
prairie-dogs,  probably.  Don't  wait  for  him, 
if  you're  ready  to  go." 

"Huntin'  prairie-dogs,"  echoed  Bill.  'Til 
bet  a  hat  he's  huntin'  old  Bohm  some- 
wheres."  He  frowned  as  he  cinched  up  his 
saddle.  "I  reckon  I'd  better  ride  over  that 
way  and  see  what  he's  up  to." 

"I  wish  you  would,"  I  said,  vaguely  uneasy. 
"I  don't  want  him  to  bother  Bohm  too 
much." 

"Me  neither,"  said  Bill,  getting  on  his 
horse,  "there's  his  pony's  tracks  now,"  he 
looked  at  the  ground.  "I'll  find  him  and  take 
him  along  with  me.  Don't  you  worry,  he's 
all  right,  but  he  sure  is  a  corker — that  kid," 
and  Bill  galloped  off. 

I  felt  confident  that  he  would  overtake  the 
lad,  so  I  dismissed  them  all  from  my  mind 
and  settled  down  to  an  uninterrupted  morn 
ing,  and  a  delayed  postal  report. 

I  was  busy  all  day  and  was  just  starting 
out  for  a  little  walk  before  supper  when  Bill 
and  Ted  rode  up. 

Bill  and   Ted,   hatless,   clothes   torn  and 


182         A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

covered  with  dirt  and  blood,  their  faces 
scratched  and  bruised,  and  Ted  regarding  me 
triumphantly  from  one  half -closed  eye,  the 
other  being  swollen  shut. 

"What  on  earth  hap — "  I  tried  to  ask,  my 
breath  fairly  taken  away.  Bill  got  off  his 
horse  and  came  up  to  the  gate. 

"We're  all  right,  Mrs.  Brook.  I'm  sorry 
you  seen  us  'fore  we  got  fixed  up  a  little ;  we 
just  got  mixed  up  some  with  Bohm — that's 
all — 'taint  nothin'  serious.  We  look  a  whole 
lot  worse  than  we  feel,  don't  we  Ted?" 

"You  bet  we  do,"  mumbled  Ted  from  a  cut 
and  bleeding  mouth,  "but  you  ought  to  see 
Bohm,  he's  a  si^it!" 

Ted  got  off  his  horse  with  difficulty. 
"Gosh,  it  was  g*eai,"  he  said,  leaning  up 
against  the  fence  for  support. 

"Come  in  and  sit  down,  both  of  you, 
Charley  will  take  your  horses,"  and  I  led  the 
way  into  the  house  followed  a  little  unstead 
ily  by  Bill  and  Ted,  who  collapsed  on  the  first 
chairs  they  could  reach. 

I  gave  them  some  wine,  washed  off  their 
blood-stained  faces,  and  made  protesting  Ted 


TED  183 

go  into  my  room  and  lie  down.  He  was 
very  pate,  and  I  saw  that  he  was  faint. 

I  came  back  into  the  kitchen. 

"Now,  Bill,  tell  me  about  it.  What  hap 
pened  and  where  is  Bohm?" 

"On  his  way  back  to  Denver  in  the  bag 
gage  car,"  announced  Bill,  draining  the  last 
drop  from  the  glass  he  still  held  in  his  hand. 

I  started,  "Oh,  Bill,  you  didn't  kill  him?" 

"No,  but  I  wisht  I  had,"  he  said  calmly. 
He'd  oughter  be  dead,  the  old  skunk,  trying 
to  poison  all  them  sheep." 

"Poison  the  sheep ;  what  sheep  ?" 

"Your  sheep,"  Bill's  brows  contracted  as 
he  looked  at  me.  "Your  sheep,"  he  repeated, 
his  voice  rising  as  I  scarcely  seemed  able  to 
grasp  his  meaning.  "All  the  sheep  at  Hay 
Gulch  Camp,  that's  what  he  came  out  here 
for,  and  he'd  a  done  it,  too,  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  that  kid  in  there."  Bill  jerked  his  head 
in  the  direction  of  my  room. 

"Ted?"  I  asked,  my  emotion  stifling  my 
voice. 

"Ted,"  Bill  affirmed,  "he  caught  him  at  it 
red-handed,  and  probably  saved  two  thous- 


184         A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

and  sheep  from  bein'  dead  this  minute." 
"How  on  earth  did  he  find  it  out?" 
"Bill  straightened  up  in  his  chair. 
"Them  eyes  a  his'n  don't  miss  much,  I'm! 
here  to  tell  you,  and  his  everlastin'  snoopin* 
around  done  some  good  after  all."   Bill's  eyes 
glowed  with  pride.  "Yesterday,  before  Bohm 
left,  Ted  come  acrost  him  mixin'  a  lot  of  stuff 
with  some  grain,  and,  of  course,  had  to  know 
all  about  it.    The  old  man  finally  told  him  he 
was  fixin'  to  poison  the  prairie-dogs  on  his 
claim,  but  he  was  so  peevish  about  it,  Ted 
said  he  didn't  believe  him,  and  mistrusted 
somethin'  was  wrong." 

"The  kid  didn't  say  nothin'  to  me  about  it ; 
had  some  fool  notion  about  playin'  detective, 
I  reckon,  at  any  rate  he  got  up  along  about 
four  o'clock  and  rode  out  to  Bohm's  claim  to 
do  a  little  reconorterin'." 

Bill  reluctantly  put  the  glass  down  and 
tipped  back  in  his  chair.  "He  hid  his  horse 
in  the  gulch  and  crope  up  in  the  grass  like 
an  Injin.  The  herder  wasn't  nowhere  in 
sight  and  the  sheep  was  still  in  the  corral, 
but  old  Bohm  was  there  all  right,  fixin'  little 


TED  185 

piles  of  that  poisoned  wheat  just  where  the 
sheep  would  come  acrost  it  the  first  thing." 

"Oh,  Bill,  that's  the  worst  thing  I  ever 
heard !"  I  was  sick  at  the  mere  thought. 

Bill  was  too  engrossed  to  pay  any  atten 
tion  to  the  interruption. 

"Ted  said  he  was  comin'  back  to  tell  me, 
but  he  got  so  excited  when  he  seen  what 
Bohm  was  up  to,  he  never  thought  of  nothin' 
but  stoppin'  him.  The  old  man  was  stoopin' 
over  with  his  back  to  Ted,  and  the  kid  gave  a 
yell  for  the  herder  and  ran  for  Bohm  and 
before  he  could  straighten  up  Ted  was  on  top 
of  him." 

Bill  scarcely  paused  for  breath — "the  old 
man  reached  for  his  gun,  but  Ted  was  too 
quick  for  him  and  knocked  it  out  of  his  hand, 
and  when  I  came  up,  there  they  was  rollin' 
all  over  the  prairie,  first  one  on  top  and  then 
the  other." 

Bill  looked  toward  the  door  of  my  room, 
reflectively — "I  kinder  felt  there  was  some- 
thin*  wrong  when  I  left  here,  and  believe  me, 
I  didn't  spare  my  cayuse  none  gettin'  there 
neither,  and  I  didn't  get  there  none  too  soon." 


186         A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

I  was  incapable  of  speech.  I  just  stared  at 
Bill. 

"There  ain't  no  doubt  about  Bohm'a  bein' 
ready  to  kill  him;  he  was  on  top  then  and 
reachin'  for  his  throat.  I  didn't  stop  to  ask 
no  questions.  I  jest  grabbed  him,  and  pulled 
him  off  of  Ted.  He  was  white  as  chalk  and 
ready  to  eat  us  both  alive,  but  I  hung  on  to 
hkn  while  Ted  got  up  cryin',  'Look  what  he's 
done,  Bill,  look  what  he's  done/  and  pointed 
at  somethin'  on  the  ground." 

Bill's  eyes  were  like  two  live  coals.  "Bohni 
was  cussin'  like  a  steam  engine  'bout  the 
kid's  jumpin'  him  when  he  was  puttin'  eut 
poistn  for  the  prairie-dogs.  I  just  took  one 
look  around  and  seen  all  them  piles  of  poison 
wheat  there  by  the  corral  when  there  wasn't 
a  prairie-dog  within  two  miles.  I — well,  I 
aint  goin'  to  tell  you  what  I  said,  5irs.  Brook, 
'taint  fit  for  you  to  hear." 

Bill  looked  down  and  turned  the  glass  on 
the  table  around  and  around.  He  looked  up 
again  and  smiled,  but  his  brows  contracted 
as  he  went  on — "We  had  words  then,  sure 
enough.  All  of  a  sudden  Bohm  made  a  lunge 


.  TED  J87 

and  caught  the  handkerchief  round  my  neck 
with  one  hand  and  reached  for  somethin* 
with  the  other,  and  the  first  thing  I  knew  he 
was  slashin*  at  me  with  a  pocket  knife.  I 
guess  I  saw  red  then,  'cause  I  knocked  him 
down  and  nearly  pounded  the  life  out  of 
himu" 

Bill  stopped  a  moment — "His  eyea  waa 
rolKn'  back  in  his  head  and  his  tongue  was 
hangin'  out  and  there  was  a  pool  of  blood 
'round  us,  three  yards  across."  Bill's 
description  was  so  vivid  I  shut  my  eyes.  "I 
reckon  I'd  killed  him  if  Ted  hadn't  tromped 
my  legs  and  kinda  brought  me  to  myself. 
He'd  oughter  been  killed,  but  I  let  him  up 
then  and  told  Ted  to  go  for  my  rope.  We 
tied  his  hands  and  legs.  I  guess  he  had 
about  all  he  wanted  for  he  wasn't  strugglin' 
much."  Bill  smiled  grimly.  "We  carried 
him  into  the  cabin,  and  there  was  the  Mexi 
can  lying  in  his  bunk — doped.  We  knew  who 
done  it  all  right,  and  I  tell  you  we  didn't 
handle  Bohm  like  no  suckin'  infant  when  we 
laid  him  down,  neither." 

Bill's  face  was  stern  and  set  and  I  shared 


188          A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

his  indignation  too  much  to  trust  myself  to 
speak. 

"We  left  him  there  and  went  to  get  the 
wheat  out  of  the  way  before  we  opened  the 
corral  gates  for  the  sheep.  Thanks  to  Ted, 
Bohm  hadn't  had  time  to  put  much  around. 
He's  a  great  little  kid,  that  boy."  Bill's  voice 
broke. 

"Bless  his  heart,"  I  said,  my  own  heart 
filled  with  gratitude  and  tenderness  for  the 
plucky  little  chap  in  the  other  room.  Bill's 
eyes  were  moist,  but  his  voice  was  steady 
again. 

"Steve  and  Charley  came  up  just  then  with 
the  supply  wagon,  so  Steve  set  Charley  to 
herd  the  sheep.  We  loaded  Bohm  into  the 
wagon  and  Steve  took  him  over  to  the  rail 
road.  He  said  he'd  see  he  got  on  the  train 
all  right."  Bill  grinned,  "You're  rid  of  Bohm 
for  good  now,  Mrs.  Brook,  for  I  kinda  think 
he  gathered  from  what  me  and  Steve  said 
the  ranch  wouldn't  be  no  health  resort  for 
him  if  he  ever  showed  his  ugly  face  round 
here  again." 

"Oh,  Bill,  I'm  so  thankful;  it  makes  me 


TED  189 

sick  when  I  think  what  might  have  hap 
pened." 

"Don't  thank  me,  Mrs.  Brook,  I  ain't  done 
nothin'."  Bill's  face  was  red  with  embar 
rassment  as  he  stood  up.  "Ted's  the  one  to 
thank,  he's  some  kid,  believe  me,"  and  Bill's 
eyes  were  very  tender. 

"Let's  go  in  and  see  how  he's  making  it." 
Bill  followed  me  into  the  room. 

Ted  was  sitting  up  on  the  couch,  regarding 
his  battered  visage  in  my  hand-glass  with 
the  greatest  interest.  I  could  see  at  once  he 
was  in  no  mood  for  emotion  or  petting. 

"Hello,  I'm  all  right,"  he  murmured  with 
a  one-sided  grin.  "Say,  Bill,  wasn't  it  great  ? 
I  wouldn't  have  missed  it  for  a  million  dol 
lars."  He  sank  back  with  a  sigh  of  supreme 
satisfaction.  "I  just  wish  I  could  remember 
all  the  things  he  called  me.  I  want  to  spring 
them  on  the  fellows  when  I  go  back." 

Bill  looked  at  him  with  genuine  concern. 
"See  here,  kid,"  he  said  decidedly,  "you  want 
to  forget  all  them  things  as  quick  as  you  can. 
Don't  you  go  springin'  any  such  language 
back  where  you  come  from.  I'm  no  innocent 


190         A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

babe  myself,  but  I'm  here  to  tell  you  old 
Bohm's  cussin'  made  anything  I  ever  heard 
sound  like  a  Sunday  School  piece.  You  for 
get  it  now,  pronto,"  he  commanded  as  he 
went  out  of  the  door.  "It's  a  reflection  on 
me  and  Mrs.  Brook." 

After  Bill  had  gone,  Ted  looked  at  himself 
again,  then  at  me.  "What  do  you  suppose 
Aunt  Elizabeth  would  say  if  she  could  see  me 
now?"  We  both  laughed. 

"I  would  be  a  'disgrace  to  my  family  and 
position*  now,  sure  enough."  He  felt  his 
blackened  eye  tenderly. 

I  sat  down  on  the  couch  beside  him.  "You 
will  never  be  more  of  a  credit  to  your  family 
than  you  are  at  this  minute,  Ted,  nor  more  of 
a  man." 

He  looked  up,  for  my  voice  shook  a  little. 
He  knew  what  I  meant  and  his  lips  twitched 
as  he  patted  my  hand  gently,  and  turned  his 
face  away. 


xn 

BLIZZARDS 

IT  was  just  like  Louise  Reynolds  to  arrive 
on  the  wings  of  a  blizzard,  wearing  a 
straw  hat  and  spring  suit.     Louise  led 
the  seasons,  she  never  followed  them,  and 
she  preceded  that  particular  storm  by  about 
two  hours;  but  she  was  justified,  for  it  was 
April  and  she  was  on  her  way  from  Cali 
fornia. 

In  this  land  of  the  unexpected  even  the 
weather  disregarded  all  established  prece 
dents.  A  glorious  Indian  Summer  night 
extended  into  January,  or  a  sudden  blizzard 
would  swoop  down  from  the  North  in  Octo 
ber  or  April  and  leave  us  snowed  in  for  days. 

That  is  exactly  what  happened  upon  this 
occasion  and  most  of  Louise's  visit  was  spent 
in  shoveling  snow  for  the  pure  joy  of  the 
exercise.  That  energetic  young  person  had 
to  do  something  in  lieu  of  tennis  or  golf. 
191 


192          A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

The  prairies  were  covered  with  a  fluffy 
mantle  of  purest  white,  great  drifts  filled  the 
gulches  and  the  roads  were  utterly  oblit 
erated.  Long  after  the  storm  the  men  had 
to  go  about  on  horseback  for  no  wagon  could 
be  moved  through  the  deep  snow. 

At  this  juncture  Louise  announced  that 
she  had  all  of  her  reservations  through  to 
Baltimore,  where  she  was  to  officiate  as 
bridesmaid.  She  was  obliged  to  go  and  we 
had  to  take  her  to  the  railroad. 

We  could  scarcely  go  on  horseback  with 
baggage,  there  wasn't  a  sleigh  in  the  coun 
try,  certainly  none  on  the  ranch,  but  if 
Necessity  was  the  Mother  of  Invention,  Owen 
was  a  near  relative.  He  never  failed  to  find 
some  way  of  meeting  the  most  difficult  prob 
lem,  If  Louise  must  go  it  devolved  upon  him 
to  see  that  she  reached  the  station  and  so  he 
produced  a  sled,  a  disreputable  old  affair, 
used  for  the  exalted  purpose  of  hauling  dead 
animals  to  "the  dump" — but  still  it  was  a 
sled  and  under  Owen's  direction  it  was 
scrubbed  •  and  transformed  into  the  most 
luxurious  equippage  by  having  a  packing  box 


BLIZZARDS  193 

nailed  on  the  back  and  covered  with  rugs. 
Louise  and  I  perched  on  the  box,  with  heavy 
robes  tucked  in  about  us,  the  suit  cases  were 
at  our  feet  and  Owen  sat  on  the  trunk  in 
front  to  drive. 

There  was  only  one  draw-back,  the  sled 
had  no  tongue  to  keep  it  from  running  on  to 
the  heels  of  the  horses,  so  Owen  cut  a  hole 
in  the  bottom  of  the  sled  through  which  he 
stuck  a  broom-stick.  My  task  was  to  work 
this  improvised  brake  when  we  went  down 
hill  by  jabbing  the  broom-stick  into  the 
snow.  It  worked  beautifully  except  that  the 
friction  against  the  hard  snow  broke  pieces 
of  it  off  and  it  grew  perceptibly  shorter  as  we 
advanced. 

In  order  to  avoid  some  especially  deep 
gulches  we  left  the  valley  and  followed  a  high 
ridge.  It  was  much  longer,  but  we  had 
allowed  the  entire  day  for  the  trip.  There 
was  no  danger  of  becoming  lost  as  long  as  we 
could  see,  for  we  knew  too  well  the  country 
and  the  general  direction  to  be  followed. 

No  incident  marred  the  joy  of  that  day. 
When  the  horses  floundered  and  almost  dis- 


194         A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

appeared  from  si^ht  in  a  snow-filled  gulch, 
leaving  the  sled  stranded  like  an,  Ark  on  a 
gleaming  Ararat,  we  had  only  to  dig  the 
horses  out  with  a  shovel  which  had  been 
taken  for  the  purpose  and  after  getting  them 
on  the  level  ground,  go  back  and  hitch  a  long 
rope  to  the  sled,  draw  it  across  the  gulch  and 
proceed  upon  our  way. 

The  light  of  the  sun  upon  the  snow  was  so 
intense  it  was  necessary  to  wear  colored 
glasses  to  avoid  snow  blindness,  and  being 
muffled  in  furs,  we  looked  like  three  bears  in 
goggles.  Our  wraps  kept  us  perfectly  warm 
and  it  was  a  merry  ride.  The  adventure 
filled  us  with  joy  as  we  glided  over  the  track 
less  world  in  which  we  alone  moved. 

There  was  no  suggestion  of  dreariness  or 
desolation  in  the  scene.  Under  the  magic 
touch  of  the  sun  the  world  burst  forth  into 
a  miracle  of  glory  and  beauty  which  held  us 
spellbound.  The  sky  was  cloudless,  not  a 
shadow  fell  across  that  dazzling  white  ex 
panse,  which  flashed  and  sparkled  with  all 
tfee  prismatic  colors.  Far  te  the  west  Pike's 
Peak  stood,  a  marvel  of  varying  lights  and 


BLIZZARDS  195 

shadows,  its  head  resting  on  the  soft  blue 
bosom  of  the  sky.  Its  commanding  height 
had  filled  the  Indian  of  the  Plains  with  wor 
shipful  awe,  it  was  to  him  "the  Gate  of 
Heaven,  the  abiding  place  of  the  Great 
Spirit."  According  to  his  own  testimony,  the 
one  inevitable  duty  in  the  life  of  the  Indian 
is  the  duty  of  prayer — and  how  often  as  he 
looked  upon  that  distant  mountain  must  the 
red  hunter  have  paused  in  the  midst  of  the 
vast  prairies,  his  soul  uplifted  and  an  un 
spoken  prayer  on  his  lips ! 

The  whole  aspect  of  the  country  was 
changed,  all  the  familiar  landmarks  were 
gone.  Except  for  the  hills,  the  surface  of  the 
prairie  was  perfectly  level  as  though  the 
Great  Spirit  had  stretched  his  hand  forth 
from  that  mystic  mountain  and  passing  it 
over  the  world  had  left  it  smooth  and  stain 
less. 

It  was  a  wonderful  experience,  and  when 
toward  evening  we  reached  the  railroad  we 
were  thrilled  and  triumphant  over  our  accom 
plishment.  The  night  was  spent  in  the  little 
four-room  "hotel,"  we  saw  Louise  safely  on 


1S8         A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE  ' 

board  the  eastbound  express  the  next  morn 
ing,  then  returned  to  the  ranch. 

To  be  out  after  a  blizzard  is  one  thing,  to 
be  out  in  one  is  quite  another,  and  we  always 
grew  apprehensive  when  the  sky  became 
suddenly  overcast  and  the  snow  began  to 
fall  from  leaden  clouds.  What  if  the  storm 
should  catch  the  herders  and  the  sheep  too 
far  away  from  the  camp  ? 

They  were  all  warned  to  range  their  sheep 
to  the  North  if  it  threatened  to  storm,  as 
irost  of  the  blizzards  came  from  that  direc 
tion  and  the  sheep  would  go  before  the  wind 
back  to  camp  and  safety.  But  they  will  not 
face  it  and,  if  unmindful  of  his  orders,  the 
herder  took  them  South  and  a  sudden  storm 
came,  he  could  not  turn  his  sheep  back  to 
the  camp ;  they  would  drift  on  and  on  before 
the  wind,  sometimes  plunging  over  a  bank  to 
be  buried  beneath  the  drifting  snow  or  piling 
up  and  smothering  each  other. 

One  winter  just  as  Owen  and  I  were  start- 
Ing  home  from  California  we  received  a  tele 
gram  from  Steve  saying  that  during  a  bliz- 


BLIZZARDS  197 

zard  the  buck  herd  had  been  lost.  Owen  had 
some  very  important  business  which  detained 
him  when  we  reached  Denver,  so  he  asked 
me  to  go  on  to  the  ranch,  have  Steve  organize 
the  men  into  searching  parties  and  look 
through  every  gulch  in  the  vicinity  for  any 
discolored  holes  on  the  top  of  the  drifts  which 
would  be  caused  by  the  breath  of  the  sheep 
if  they  were  under  the  snow.  For  two  days 
the  men  searched  and  finally  came  to  a  deep 
bank  of  snow  on  the  top  of  which  were  found 
the  discolored  holes  they  sought;  they  dug 
down  and  discovered  the  bucks.  A  few  had 
been  smothered,  but  most  of  them  were 
taken  out  alive  after  having  been  buried  for 
ten  days !  During  the  storm  the  herder  had 
left  them  and  the  poor  distracted  things  had 
drifted  over  an  embankment  and  were  en 
tombed  under  the  snow. 

When  anyone  speaks  of  "good-for-nothing 
Mexicans"  I  think  of  Fidel,  a  mere  lad,  who 
had  taken  his  sheep  South  on  a  clear  morn 
ing,  but  was  overtaken  by  a  storm  before  he 
could  get  them  back  to  the  corrals.  He  and 
his  dog  did  everything  they  could  do  to  turn 


198         A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

them,  but  they  drifted  farther  and  farther 
away.  Fidel  stayed  with  them,  guiding  them 
away  from  the  gulches  until  they  reached  a 
railway  cut.  There  Steve  found  them  twenty- 
four  hours  later  when  we  feared  that  Fidel 
had  perished  with  his  sheep.  Facing  death 
alone  in  the  freezing  wind  and  blinding, 
smothering  snow,  hour  after  hour  he  had 
kept  his  sheep  from  piling  up.  He  not  only 
saved  them  all,  but  they  were  in  better  con 
dition  than  many  in  the  corrals  at  the  camps. 
Not  for  a  moment  had  he  left  them.  His 
hands  and  feet  were  frozen;  he  barely 
escaped  freezing  to  death  and  on  that  day 
we  learned  the  true  meaning  of  "Fidelity." 

Then  once  more  Fate  took  a  hand  in  our 
affairs  and  a  blizzard  changed  the  whole 
course  of  our  lives. 

We  owned  our  land  and  no  one  could  en 
croach  upon  us,  but  after  a  few  years  we 
began  to  notice  forlorn  little  shacks  built 
here  and  there  on  the  open  range  by  the  poor 
home-seekers  who,  attracted  by  the  prospect 
fcf  free  land,  had  begun  "homesteading." 


BLIZZARDS  199 

They  built  flimsy  little  houses,  scratched  up 
the  surface  of  the  prairie  for  a  few  inches 
and  raised  pitiful,  straggling  crops.  The 
settlers  were  coming  in !  The  opening  wedge 
of  that  great  onrush  had  been  thrust  deep 
into  the  heart  of  the  prairie.  In  the  undis 
puted  possession  of  our  own  land  we  were 
not  disturbed.  While  we  knew  that  it  meant 
the  occupation  of  the  free  range  and  the 
passing  of  the  large  ranches,  eventually,  we 
scarcely  realized  how  soon  it  would  come  and 
were  not  prepared  to  receive  an  offer  from 
an  Eastern  syndicate  ,to  buy  the  entire  ranch 
— to  cut  it  into  small  units  to  be  sold  as 
farms. 

The  era  of  "dry-farming"  had  just  begun, 
when  by  scientific  methods,  deep  ploughing 
and  the  conservation  of  all  moisture,  dry 
land  might  be  successfully  cultivated  without 
irrigation.  It  was  a  dream  of  the  future  of 
the  prairie  region,  impossible  to  visualize, 
and  I  laughed  in  my  ignorance,  as  Owen  read 
me  the  letter. 

"How  perfectly  absurd.  Imagine  trying  to 
farm  out  here;  the  grangers  would  starve  to 


200          A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

death  in  a  year  unless  they  had  stock  of  some 
sort.  Surely  you  would  never  think  of  selling 
out?" 

"I  don't  know,  Esther,  the  homesteaders 
can't  come  on  to  our  deeded  land,  but  they 
are  filing  on  all  the  Government  land.  In  a 
short  time  there  will  be  no  more  free  range, 
and  did  you  ever  stop  to  consider  that  our 
land  will  soon  be  so  valuable  that  we  can't 
afford  to  run  sheep  on  it?" 

In  that  last  sentence  I  saw  the  handwrit 
ing  on  the  wall.  It  was  only  a  question  of 
time  and  this  phase,  too,  of  our  life  would 
pass. 

In  the  East  life  seems  to  be  static,  but  in 
the  West  it  is  in  a  state  of  flux  and  conditions 
are  constantly  changing. 

Perhaps  I  had  inherited  the  static  state  of 
mind  for  I  had  taken  it  for  granted  that  all 
the  rest  of  our  days  were  to  be  spent  there 
on  the  ranch  under  the  shadow  of  the  moun 
tain.  Suddenly  a  realization  of  the  facts 
swept  over  me.  In  a  sense  we  had  been 
pioneers,  we  had  blazed  a  trail  that  others 
were  to  follow  and  like  the  Indians  we,  too, 


BLIZZARDS  201 

were  destined  to  move  09.  However,  before 
you  are  thirty  to  regard  yourself  as  a  hoary- 
headed  pioneer  requires  a  series  of  mental 
gymnastics  and,  while  my  brain  was  going 
through  a  few  preparatory  exercises,  I  did 
not  take  the  question  of  selling  out  very 
seriously.  After  all  those  years  of  struggle 
jufit  as  it  had  been  brought  to  perfection, 
after  we  had  put  into  it  the  best  of  our  life, 
youth,  energy  and  work,  a  part  of  our  very 
selves,  it  did  not  seem  possible  that  we  could 
part  with  the  ranch.  Owen  felt  much  as  I 
did,  but  he  was  the  first  to  realize  that  we 
had  come  again  to  the  parting  of  the  ways 
and  that  a  decision  must  be  made. 

Yet — in  the  end — it  wasn't  the  financial 
consideration  nor  a  deep  conviction  that  the 
future  development  of  the  country  would  be 
retarded  if  we  remained,  but  an  unexpected 
blizzard  which  turned  the  scale  and  set  us 
adrift  again. 

The  sun  rose  clear  on  the  19th  of  October, 
but  during  the  morning  it  began  to  grow 
cloudy. 


202          A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

Owen  and  several  of  the  men  were  at  the 
railroad  station  where  they  were  shipping 
lambs.  During  the  afternoon  the  wind  began 
to  blow,  it  grew  much  colder  and  snow  fell. 

The  next  morning  it  was  storming  very 
hard  and  Steve,  after  arranging  to  have  hay 
hauled  to  the  various  camps,  went  out  on 
horseback  to  see  that  all  the  sheep  were  kept 
in  the  corrals.  I  was  greatly  relieved  when 
Owen  got  home  in  the  middle  of  the  after 
noon.  Ten  thousand  lambs  had  been  loaded 
and  started  on  their  way  in  spite  of  the 
storm,  but  the  drive  back  to  the  ranch  had 
been  very  hard,  for  hour  by  hour  the  storm 
increased  in  fury.  The  ground  was  covered 
and  even  the  dull  grey  sky  was  hidden  by 
dense  clouds  of  powdery  snow  which  did  not 
seem  to  fall  upon  the  earth  but  was  blown 
in  long  horizontal  lines  across  the  prairies  by 
the  force  of  a  mighty  gale.  It  filled  the 
gulches  and  piled  in  deep  drifts.  It  was 
driven  against  the  house  with  such  force  it 
sifted  through  the  smallest  crack.  The  win 
dows  on  the  North  and  West  were  covered 
with  a  solid  coating  of  snow,  the  wind 


BLIZZARDS  203 

whistled  and  moaned  and  tore  at  the  shutters 
as  if  trying  to  carry  them  with  it  on  a  wild 
race  over  the  plains.  It  was  impossible  to 
see  the  corrals,  even  the  garden  fence  was 
lost  behind  the  driving,  swirling  snow.  To 
open  the  door  was  to  inhale  a  freezing  gust 
of  snow-laden  air,  millions  of  icy  particles 
blinded  the  eyes  and  took  away  the  breath. 

We  knew  that  the  sheep  were  all  in  the 
corrals,  but  we  feared  that  unless  the  herders 
watched  them  carefully  they  would  pile  up 
as  the  snow  drifted  over  the  high  sides  of  the 
inclosure.  The  rest  of  the  stock  was  pro 
tected  and  my  heart  was  filled  with  thank 
fulness  that  Owen  and  the  men  had  been  able 
to  reach  the  ranch.  They  went  about  the 
place  like  white  wraiths  doing  the  necessary 
things.  Above  the  howling  of  the  wind  not  a 
sound  could  be  heard;  a  shout  was  carried 
miles  away  as  soon  as  it  left  the  lips.  By 
five  o'clock  it  was  dark. 

About  eight  o'clock,  Mary  came  in  and  told 
Owen  that  Steve  wanted  to  see  him.  When 
Owen  returned,  instead  of  coming  into  the 
living-room,  he  went  to  the  closet,  took  down 


204         A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

his  short,  fleece-lined  riding  coat  and  began 
to  put  it  on. 

"What's  the  matter,  Owen,  you  are  not 
going  out?" 

'1  must,"  he  said,  quietly,  winding  a  long 
scarf  about  his  neck,  "Steve  says  that  Dorn 
went  out  yesterday  afternoon  with  a  load  of 
hay  for  the  camp  on  Six  Shooter;  he  should 
have  come  back  last  night  or  certainly  this 
morning.  He's  new  and  doesn't  know  the 
country  and  he  may  be  lost.  I'm  going  to 
see  if  I  can  find  him." 

My  heart  stood  still;  the  camp  on  Six 
Shooter  gulch  was  fully  eight  miles  away. 
Eight  miles  in  that  storm !  It  did  not  seem 
possible  that  a  man  could  live  to  go  a  mile. 

"Oh,  Owen,  I  can't  let  you  go !  Don't  you 
suppose  he  is  at  the  camp  ?" 

"I  don't  know,  he  may  be,  but  I  must  go 
and  find  out.  We  can't  take  a  chance  on  a 
man's  being  lost."  In  the  face  of  that  argu 
ment  there  was  nothing  to  say  add  nothing 
to  do  but  accept  it. 

"Who  is  going  with  you?" 

"No  one" — Owen  did  not  lot>k  at  me  as  he 


BLIZZARDS  205 

answered — "I  can't  ask  any  of  the  men  to 
face  this  storm." 

I  understood ;  he  couldn't  require  any  of  his 
men  to  risk  their  lives.  A  hand  of  ice  closed 
about  my  heart  and  deadened  every  sensi 
bility.  Like  a  machine  I  went  about  helping 
Owen  get  ready  and  at  last  went  to  the  kit 
chen  to  bring  him  some  coffee  just  before  he 
left.  A  man  was  standing  by  the  door 
muffled  in  wraps.  I  stood  still. 

"Why,  Bill,  where  have  you  been?" 

"I  ain't  'been',  I'm  goin'.  I'm  goin'  with 
Mr.  Brook.  A  man  ain't  got  no  business  out 
a  night  like  this  alone." 

"Bill!"  It  was  all  I  could  say— but  he 
understood. 

When  Owen  came  out  he  tried  to  dissaude 
him,  but  Bill  was  determined. 

"I  know  I  don't  have  to  go,  Mr.  Brook,  you 
never  asked  me,  but  I'm  a  goin',  there  ain't 
nothin'  can  keep  me." 

I  had  never  seen  him  so  serious,  all  the  old 
half  bantering  tone  was  gone  and  they  went 
out  together,  master  and  man,  each  risking 
his  life  for  the  sake  of  another. 


206         A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

I  tried  to  watch  them  but  instantly  they 
were  lost  to  my  sight  as  a  vague  grey  cloud 
closed  about  them. 

How  the  night  passed  I  do  not  know.  I 
kept  the  fires  up  and  the  coffee  hot  and 
walked  miles,  back  and  forth,  back  and  forth. 
I  did  not  think  of  sleeping.  It  was  useless  to 
try  to  read.  I  could  not  see  the  words — the 
printed  page  was  blank  and  I  could  only  see 
the  figures  of  two  men  on  horseback,  beaten, 
buffeted,  fighting  for  their  lives  against  the 
cruel  snow-laden  gale.  I  saw  them  separated, 
perhaps,  trying  to  get  through  the  gulches 
on  their  floundering  horses,  or  walking  to 
keep  from  freezing  and  then  perhaps  ex 
hausted — lying  down  to  rest  while  that  last 
deadly  sensation  of  sleepiness  crept  over 
them. 

Daylight  came  at  last,  but  still  I  walked. 
I  pushed  my  breakfast  away  untasted  and 
tried  to  occupy  myself  with  the  duties  of  the 
day.  I  felt  as  though  I  should  scream  aloud 
if  that  howling  wind  did  not  cease,  but  hour 
after  hour  passed  and  there  was  no  other 
sound.  The  men  came  and  went  about  their 


BLIZZARDS  207 

work  quietly,  speaking  but  little  and  then  in 
subdued  tones  as  in  the  presence  of  death; 
over  us  all  hung  the  pall  of  terrifying  uncer 
tainty. 

When  occasionally  it  was  possible  to  catch 
a  glimpse  of  the  corrals  or  the  blacksmith 
shop  I  knew  that  the  wind  must  be  abating 
and  time  after  time  I  knocked  the  snow  from 
the  windows  and  stood  straining  my  eyes 
ftito  that  misty,  vague  out-of-doors.  Ten 
o'clock,  eleven  o'clock.  Something  moved 
along  the  edge  of  the  pond,  the  vague  out 
lines  of  some  animal,  a  slight  lull  in  the  wind 
and  I  could  see  that  it  was  a  horseman, 
another  followed — I  caught  up  a  cape,  flung 
open  the  door,  dashed  out  into  the  storm 
through  drifts,  over  every  detaining  obstacle 
until  I  reached  the  corral  and — Owen. 

They  were  safe,  but  so  weary  and  worn 
they  could  scarcely  speak.  Their  faces  were 
swollen,  having  been  whipped  and  lashed  by 
the  icy  particles  the  wind  had  driven  against 
them  like  bits  of  steel  from  a  mighty  blast 
furnace,  their  eyebrows  and  lashes  were  solid 
ice,  their  lips  cracked  and  bleeding. 


208          A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

After  a  night  of  horror,  at  three  in  the 
morning,  they  had  found  Dorn  at  the  Six 
Shooter  camp  comfortably  sleeping  with  the 
Mexican  herder!  When  the  storm  began  he 
made  no  attempt  to  come  back  to  the  ranch, 
not  stopping  to  think  that  his  non-appearance 
would  cause  any  anxiety,  besides  endanger 
ing  the  lives  of  two  men. 

"I  was  so  hot  when  I  seen  Dorn  nice  pnd 
warm  all  cuddled  up  there  with  that  Dago  I 
jest  drug  him  out  by  the  collar  and  shook 
him.  Anybody  that'ud  sleep  with  a  Mexican 
had  orter  freeze  to  death.  Gosh !  Here  was 
Mr.  Brook  and  me  amblin'  over  this  whole 
blamed  country,  flounderin'  through  snow 
drifts  as  high  as  this  house,  gettin'  our 
horses  down  and  most  freezin*  to  death, 
huntin'  a  no  account  thing  like  that."  Bill 
was  himself  again. 

Their  knowledge  of  the  country  and  pres 
ence  of  mind  had  saved  them,  for  once  when 
they  found  that  it  had  grown  warmer  and 
apparently  the  wind  had  ceased,  they  realized 
that  the  horses  had  turned  with  the  wind  so 
that  it  was  at  their  backs,  they  forced 


BLIZZARDS  209 

poor  things  into  th.e  face  of  the  bitter  gale 
again  and  went  on.  They  passed  the  camp 
without  seeing  it  and  had  gone  beyond  w,hen 
the  wind  brought  thejtn  the  smell  of  the 
sheep,  they  turned  back  and  after  searching 
found  the  cabin.  It  was  a  narrow  escape  for 
they  were  too  exhausted  to  have  gong 
farther. 

A  few  days  later  we  learned  that  old  John, 
who  had  been  our  mail  carrier,  had  perished 
in  the  storm.  He  had  gone  out  to  try  to  find 
his  cattle  and  did  not  return.  His  wife  and 
little  son  were  alone  and  when  they  were  able 
to  get  out  and  look  for  him,  they  found  him 
just  outside  the  garden  fence  lying  frozen 
and  half  eaten  by  the  coyotes. 

I  thought  much  during  the  following  days 
and  finally  I  came  to  a  conclusion. 

"Owen,  if  you  want  to  sell  out  I'm  willing — 
it  will  have  to  come  some  day,  I  realize  that, 
and  besides — there  is  too  much  at  stake.  I 
don't  believe  I  can  ever  live  through  another 
blizzard." 

In  three  months  all  the  stock  on  the  ranch 


210         A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

was  sold,  a  caretaker  was  placed  in  charge 
of  the  home  ranch,  which  we  retained,  and 
we  moved  to  Denver.  But  instead  of  selling 
out  to  the  syndicate,  Owen  decided  to  put  our 
lands  on  the  market  himself  and  they  were 
listed  for  sale. 

It  was  the  end  of  the  old  life ;  we  had  made 
way  for  the  settlers. 


XIII 
ECHOES  OF  THE  PAST 

THE  curtain  of  years  had  fallen  and 
risen  again  on  the  same  scene,  the  val 
ley  which  stretched  off  toward  the 
setting  sun  and  the  guardian  mountain  which 
stood  unchanged  at  its  head.  But  this  was 
October,  the  royal  season  of  purple  and  gold 
and  red,  when  the  asters  and  sunflowers 
were  blooming  their  lives  away  in  one  lavish 
outpouring  of  beauty  and  the  rose  bushes 
were  crimson  under  the  kiss  of  the  frcct.  A 
shimmering  mass  of  gold  clothed  the  great 
cotton-woods  along  the  winding  course  of  the 
creek  and  hills  of  russet  brown  replaced  those 
of  vivid  green  I  had  first  seen  sixteen  years 
before. 

Where  the  young  bride  had  stood  on  that 

July  day,  amid  the  strange  surroundings, 

looking  with  inexperienced  eyes  ur>on  a  new 

world,  she  stood  again,  seeing  it  from  the 

211 


212          A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

angle  of  a  participant,  from  the  viewpoint 
of  a  woman,  fused  by  the  furnace  of  exper 
ience  into  a  part  of  that  life. 

It  was  the  same  scene,  but  the  setting  had 
changed  and  as  a  flood  of  memories  swept 
over  me  I  felt  as  though  I  were  a  reincar 
nated  spirit,  walking  the  earth  in  a  third 
phase  of  existence,  having  passed  through 
the  first,  a  light-hearted  girl  among  family 
and  friends  in  urban  surroundings,  having 
lived  through  the  second,  an  atom  in  the 
midst  of  those  vast  wind-swept  plains 
amongst  elemental  conditions,  a  part  in  the 
great  primitive  struggle  for  existence  and 
coming  back  again  to  find  the  prairies  trans 
formed  by  cultivation  into  farms,  with  the 
crops  covering  the  hills  and  bottom  lands 
like  a  huge  patch-work  quilt  of  green,  brown 
and  brilliant  yellow,  fastened  together  with 
black  threads  of  barbed  wire. 

Above  on  the  hill  stood  a  church  and  a 
school-house,  those  certain  indications  of 
community  life.  Across  the  meadows  great 
red  barns  and  towering  wind  mills  over 
shadowed  the  less  pretentious  houses. 


ECHOES  OF  THE  PAST          213 

Bridges  spanned  the  creek  with  its  shifting, 
treacherous  sand  and  in  place  of  the  dim 
winding  trails  across  the  prairie,  neatly 
fenced  county  roads  decorously  followed  the 
section  lines. 

It  was  the  same — yet  everything  was 
changed.  This  well-ordered  farming  com 
munity  seemed  prosaic,  it  lacked  the  romance 
and  charm  of  the  old  ranch  life  and  the 
glorious  sense  of  unlimited  freedom. 

The  bunkhouse  was  occupied  by  the  family 
of  a  hard-working  farmer  who  had  married 
the  daughter  of  our  caretaker,  Parker;  trac 
tors,  ploughs  and  harrows  filled  the  space 
about  the  blacksmith  shop.  I  resented  those 
unfamiliar  implements  and  the  prosperous 
farms.  On  all  sides  there  was  heard  a 
strange  language  of  silos,  separators  and 
"crop  rotation".  I  had  become  a  part  of  the 
old  life,  but  here  I  felt  restricted  and  out  of 
place — an  alien. 

Inside  the  house  all,  too,  was  changed. 
The  books  which  Joe  had  scorned,  the  crystal 
clock  and  our  Lares  and  Penates  were  in  our 
Denver  home,  but  on  the  ranch  I  missed  them 


214         A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

and  most  of  all  the  old  familiar  faces.  All 
had  gone.  Several  of  the  boys  had  stayed  in 
the  country,  married  and  taken  up  farming, 
raising  bounteous  crops  and  numerous  chil 
dren.  Some,  individual  and  picturesque  to 
the  end,  had  crossed  the  Great  Divide,  others 
had  sought  new  positions  in  Wyoming,  the 
last  of  the  frontier  states.  Bill  was  there 
cooking  in  an  oil  camp.  We  received  charac 
teristic,  though  infrequent,  letters  from  him, 
usually  in  the  early  summer,  labored  epistles 
over  which  he  had  "sworn  and  sweat,"  as  he 
expressed  it,  which  began  by  assuring  us  that 
he  was  well  and  hoped  that  we  were  the  same 
and  ended  by  an  earnest  request  to  go  with 
us  as  cook  "in  case  you  was  thinkin'  of  goin' 
campin'."  He  went  with  us  when  we  did  go, 
the  same  old  Bill,  unchanged  in  heart  or 
humor. 

Old  Bohm  was  dead.  The  final  act  of  that 
great  tragedy  took  place  in  an  isolated  mine 
where  he  had  sunk  all  his  fortune  in  a 
golden  prospect.  Hoping  to  regain  it,  the 
fortune  he  held  in  trust  for  a  friend  had  f ol- 
&wed,  but  the  game  he  had  played  so  sue- 


ECHOES  OF  THE  PAST          215 

cessfully  before  failed  when  Nemesis  took  a 
hand.  His  friend  went  to  the  mine  to  demand 
an  accounting  and  several  hours  later  Bohm's 
body,  broken  and  bleeding,  was  taken  from 
the  depths  of  the  mine.  According  to  the 
story  of  his  companion,  the  only  witness,  he 
had  slipped  and  fallen  to  the  bottom  of  the 
shaft — and  his  death,  as  his  life,  remained 
an  enigma. 

But  down  through  the  long  years  the 
echoes  of  the  past  reverberated.  Again 
and  again  we  heard  them,  sometimes  very 
faintly,  then  with  perfect  distinctness  and  on 
that  day  of  our  return  after  a  long  absence 
we  felt  again  that  mysterious  suggestion  of 
tragedy  and  the  echoes  were  startlingly  clear. 

As  I  came  in  from  my  walk  just  before 
supper,  a  strange  man  rode  up  and  Mr.  Par 
ker  asked  him  to  stop. 

He  told  us  his  name  and  during  the  prog 
ress  of  the  meal  took  little  part  in  the  con 
versation,  but  after  he  had  eaten  his  supper 
he  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  in  response 
to  Owen's  question,  said : 

"No,  I  ain't  exactly  a  stranger  round  here, 


216          A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

but  this  old  kitchen  is  about  the  only  thing 
that  ain't  changed.  I  used  to  know  every 
inch  of  ground  in  this  country  when  I  was 
punchin'  cows  for  the  Three  Circle  outfit. 
This  was  the  only  ranch  within  twenty-five 
miles.  I've  et  here  lots  of  times." 

"You  knew  the  Bohms  then?"  I  asked, 
trying  as  always  to  find  the  answer  to  the 
riddle  of  old  Bohm's  personality. 

"Sure,  I  knew  the  Bohms,"  the  stranger 
replied,  his  clear  blue  eyes  meeting  mine 
frankly.  "I  knowed  everybody  there  was  in 
the  country,  there  wasn't  many  in  them 
days,  jest  the  Bohms,  the  Mortons,  the  Bos- 
mans  and  the  La  Montes.  They're  most  all 
gone  now  except  Bosnian.  I  heered  old  La 
Monte  died  last  winter — but  Lord,  he's  been 
worse  'en  dead  for  most  twenty  years.  Did 
you  folks  know  him?" 

"Scarcely,  we  only  saw  him  once,"  and  be 
fore  me  rose  the  picture  of  the  desolate  old 
place,  the  slowly  opened  door  and  that  living 
ghost  on  the  threshold. 

The  stranger  again  spoke. 

"You  folks  bought  from  Bohm,  so  you 
knowed  him,  didn't  you?" 


ECHOES  OF  THE  PAST          217 

"Oh,  yes,  we  knew  him."  Owen  answered 
for  my  thoughts  were  far  away. 

"Well,  sir,"  said  the  old  cow-puncher, 
reaching  for  a  toothpick,  "Jim  Bohm  was  a 
great  one,  he  was  the  slickest  man  in  this 
country.  He  didn't  have  nothin'  but  a  littte 
band  of  horses  that  he  drove  up  from  Texas 
when  he  came,  but  he  kept  gettin'  richer  all 
the  time."  I  came  back  to  the  present  with 
a  start,  his  words  were  almost  the  same  Mrs. 
Morton  had  used  sixteen  years  before. 

"Wasn't  he  honest?"  I  asked,  wondering 
what  the  reply  would  be. 

He  did  not  answer  for  a  moment. 

"Well,  I  can't  say  as  to  that.  I  jest  knowed 
him  from  meetin'  him  on  the  round-ups  and 
when  I  stopped  here.  I  never  had  no  dealings 
with  him,  but  he  sure  had  a  reputation  for 
all  the  meanness  there  was,  and  I  guess  he 
deserved  it.  He  was  good  company  though, 
and  Lord,  how  he  could  play  the  fiddle."  He 
was  interrupted  by  a  sudden  clatter.  Mrs. 
Parker  had  dropped  her  spoon  and  was  look 
ing  at  him  as  if  fascinated.  "I  liked  Mrs. 
Bohm,  but  I  never  had  no  use  for  him.  I 
don't  know  about  the  other  things,  but  he 


218         A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

sure  done  Jean  La  Monte  dirt."  He  rose 
from  the  table  and  walked  toward  the  door. 
"Well,  I  reckon  I'd  better  be  movin'  on,  I 
want  to  get  to  Bosnian's  tonight."  He  looked 
up  the  valley,  "I  can  see  Bohm  now,  ridin' 
that  big  black  horse  of  his,  carryin*  a  little 
cotton-wood  switch  for  a  whip,  and  laughin* 
at  everything,  he  was  a  queer  one,  sure 
enough.  Well,  so  long — thank  you  for  my 
supper,"  and  he  went  out  into  the  evening. 

"Big  black  horse!  He  was  always  on  a 
big  black  horse!"  That  pitiful  refrain  of 
Jean  La  Monte  as  he  had  sought  the  rider 
of  that  horse  through  all  those  weary  years. 
Again  I  saw  the  men  waiting  in  the  wagon 
and  that  poor  half-clad  figure  stooping  to 
pick  up  a  little  cotton-wood  switch,  and  I 
wondered  if  across  the  great  divide  LaMonte 
had  caught  up  with  Bohm  at  last. 

Owen  was  busy  in  the  office  making  out 
contracts  for  recently  purchased  land.  Mr. 
Parker  and  an  agent  were  entertaining  some 
land-buyers,  scraps  of  their  conversation 
"bushels  to  the  acre"  and  "back  in  Kansas" 


ECHOES  OF  THE  PAST          219 

reached  me  from  time  to  time  as  I  walked  up 
and  down  under  the  stars. 

"Where  are  you,  childy?"  Dear  Mrs.  Par 
ker  was  always  concerned  when  I  was  not  in 
sight.  "Out  there  alone?'*  she  asked  as  she 
came  across  the  yard  to  join  me.  We  sat 
down  on  the  bunk-house  steps,  glorying  in 
the  beauty  of  the  night.  We  were  silent  for 
a  few  moments  and  then  she  spoke. 

"Do  you  know,  Mrs.  Brook,  him  talkin' 
about  Mr.  Bohm  tonight  at  supper  has  made 
me  think  of  so  many  things.  I  never  paid 
much  attention  to  all  them  stories  old  Mrs. 
Morton  and  other  folks  told,  but  some  mighty 
queer  things  have  happened  since  we've  been 
here." 

'What  kind  of  things?"  I  asked,  wondering 
if  she,  too,  had  breathed  the  air  of  mystery 
wh^h  surrounded  the  old  ranch. 

"Well,  I  don't  know  exactly,"  she  hesitated, 
"you'll  think  Fm  silly,  perhaps,  but  you  know 
sometimes  when  I'm  down  there,"  she  pointed 
to  the  house  among  the  trees,  "makin'  out 
my  postal  reports,  sometimes  it's  eleven  or 
twelve  o'clock  before  I'm  through.  It's  awful 


220         A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

quiet  after  everyone's  gone  to  sleep  and  I've 
heard  all  kinds  of  queer  sounds,  maybe  they 
might  be  rats  or  the  wind,  but  often  and 
often,  just  as  plain  as  I  can  hear  your  voice 
now,  Fve  heard  the  sound  of  a  violin  like 
somebody  was  playin'.  It  give  me  an  awful 
start  when  that  man  spoke  of  Bohm's  havin* 
played  the  violin." 

"Perhaps  somebody  is  playing/1  I  ven 
tured,  with  a  well  remembered  sensation  of 
ice  in  the  region  of  my  spine.  "The  houses 
aren't  far  away  now;  you  could  easily  hear 
someone  playing  if  the  wind  was  in  the 
right  direction." 

Mrs.  Parker  shook  her  head. 

"No,  that  ain't  it.  There  ain't  a  violin  in 
the  country,  and,  besides,  it's  too  near;  it's 
like  it  came  from  here" — Mrs.  Parker  looked 
up  at  the  bunkhouse  door — "and  none  of 
Ethel's  plays." 

I  said  nothing.  I  remembered  too  well 
hearing  the  strains  of  the  violin  as  they  used 
to  float  out  through  the  silent  night  while 
old  Bohm  played  to  himself  up  there  in  the 
bunkhouse,  hour  after  hour.  I  was  troubled  as 
the  echoes  of  the  past  grew  louder. 


ECHOES  OF  THE  PAST          221 

"And  then,"  Mrs.  Parker  resumed,  "there 
was  that  passage.  I  told  you  about  that, 
didn't  I  ?" 

"No.  Passage!  What  passage ?"  I  turned 
to  her  in  the  moonlight  which  showed  a 
puzzled  frown  between  her  eyes. 

"Why,  the  passage  old  Dad  Patten  found. 
I  thought  I'd  told  you  about  that,  but  maybe 
it  was  the  year  that  you  and  Mr.  Brook  was 
away."  She  paused  a  moment.  "The  third 
year  after  Ethel  and  John  came  here,  John, 
he  raised  such  a  big  crop  of  potatoes  the 
cellar  was  plumb  full,  so  he  had  Dad  tear 
out  some  of  the  old  bins  under  the  bunk 
house  to  make  some  larger  ones.  Tom  Lane 
was  helpin'  him,  and,  of  course,  Tom  was 
drunk.  They'd  tore  out  one  or  two,  but 
when  they  come  to  the  third,  they  found  a 
deep  hole  behind  it  about  four  foot  square. 
They  stuck  a  spade  into  it,  but  it  seemed  to 
go  back  so  far  Dad  he  thought  he'd  investi 
gate,  so  he  begun  to  crawl  into  it  to  see  how 
far  it  went.  He  was  well  in  when  Tom 
begun  to  laugh  and  act  like  he  was  goin'  to 
wall  him  up,  so  Dad  backed  out,  for  he  said 
that  he  was  afraid  Tom  was  just  drunk 


222         A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

enough  to  do  it.  Dad  said,  though,  that  he 
went  in  the  whole  length  of  his  body  and 
stretched  his  arm  out  as  far  as  he  could,  but 
didn't  touch  nothin',  so  he  knew  it  went  on 
further,  and  he  said  that  it  seemed  to  lead 
off  in  the  direction  of  the  old  root  cellar." 

"Root  cellar,"  I  repeated,  too  perturbed  to 
say  anything  else. 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Earker,  "but,  you  know, 
Dad,  he'd  never  heard  any  of  them  stories 
about  the  root  cellar;  Dad's  too  deaf  to  hear 
anything,  so  he  didn't  think  nothin'  about  it 
except  that  it  was  some  kind  of  an  old  dug 
out,  and  they  went  on  and  built  the  new 
bins,  and  about  two  months  after  John  had 
got  all  his  potatoes  in  Dad  happened  to  say 
something  about  it.  I  was  so  beat  I  like  to 
died,  and  when  I  told  Dad  what  folks  said 
about  the  old  root  cellar  and  Bohnt,  he 
turned  as  white  as  a  sheet.  You  couldn't 
get  him  up  to  the  bunk  house  now  if  you 
was  to  drag  him." 

"You  don't  believe "  I  began,  then 

stopped  as  Mrs.  Parker  rose  and  put  her 
hand  on  my  shoulder. 

"Childy,  I  don't  know  whether  I  believe 


%  ECHOES  OF  THE  PAST          223 

them  tales  or  not.  I'vie  scarcely  been  off 
this  place  since  you  went  away  ten  years  ago 
and  I've  seen  and  heard  some  mighty 
strange  things.  There's  lots  of  things  in 
life  we  can't  explain — we  just  have  to  accept 
'em,  and  that's  the  way  I've  had  to  do 
here.  Maybe  there's  spirits  and  maybe 
there  ain't,  but  there's  some  facts  there's  no 
gettin'  'round" — Mre.  Morton's  very  words 
again — "but  Dad's  findin'  that  passage  sure 
made  me  believe  'em  more  than  I  ever  did 
before,  and  I  do  believe  that  some  terrible 
tilings  have  been  done  right  here  on  this 
dear  old  place,  and  that  somewhere  old 
Bohm's  spirit's  mighty  restless." 

Owen  and  I  saj  up  before  the  ftre  talking 
until  late  that  night,  for  one  of  the  buyers 
wanted  the  home  place.  It  was  hard  to  give 
it  up,  for  we  both  loved  it,  but  the  old  life 
had  passed,  and  we  were  not  a  part  of  the 
new.  Owen's  business  kept  him  almost 
constantly  in  Denver,  and  we  were  at  the 
ranch  so  little  it  seemed  useless  to  cling  to 
it  longer.  The  most  difficult  decision  had 
been  made  ten  years  before.  This,  in  a  way, 


224          A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

was  more  simple,  yet  this  was  final;  it 
meant  the  breaking  of  the  last  tie  which 
bound  us  to  those  broad  acres,  and  we  were 
both  silent  a  long  time  after  we  had  agreed 
that  it  was  best  to  let  the  old  place  go. 

Suddenly  I  thought  of  my  conversation 
with  Mrs.  Parker,  and  told  Owen  of  the  find 
ing  of  the  passage  under  the  bunk  house. 
He  sat  looking  into  the  fire,  and  made  no 
comment  until  I  had  finished. 

"It  is  strange,  to  say  the  least.  I  don't 
suppose  we  shall  ever  know  the  real  truth 
about  it,  but  it  doesn't  make  much  difference 
now;  and  if  old  Bohm's  spirit  is  wandering 
about  here  it  will  feel  a  little  out  of  place  in 
a  cornfield." 

"It  certainly  will,  but,  Owen,  don't  you 
hope  'it's  mighty  restless  somewhere'?" 

"Indeed  I  do,"  he  laughed,  and  then  grew 
serious  again.  "It's  been  wonderful  from 
first  to  last,  our  life  here."  He  sighed  a 
little.  "What  experiences  we've  had!" 

"Yes,  it  has,"  I  said,  getting  up  and  stand 
ing  by  the  fireplace,  where  Owen  joined  me. 
"It  hasn't  always  been  easy,  but  I  wouldn't 


ECHOES  OF  THE  PAST          226 

take  anything  for  the  things  I've  learned. 
I'm  not  the  Tenderfoot'  you  brought  out 
sixteen  years  ago;  I'm  a  dyed-in-the-wool 
Westerner  now.  My  whole  view  of  life  has 
changed.  It  has  not  only  been  a  wonderful 
experience,  Owen,  but  a  wonderful  privilege 
— to  have  lived  here." 

Without  a  word  we  watched  the  last  log 
break  apart.  The  glowing  sparks  lighted 
the  room  for  a  single  instant,  then  died 
down,  and  in  the  fading  light  of  the  coals 
we  turned  away. 

That  night  I  laid  awake.  Vivified  by  the 
thought  of  the  final  parting  which  was  to 
come,  our  whole  life  on  the  ranch  passed  in 
review  before  me,  the  problems  and  the 
difficulties,  the  adjustments,  the  changed 
conditions  and  that  disturbing  sense  of  un 
solved  mystery. 

I  got  up  and  stood  by  the  window  looking 
out  upon  a  world  of  silver.  Myriads  of 
stars  shone  faintly  in  the  heavens  dimmed  by 
the  glory  of  the  moon,  the  pale  outline  of 
the  mountain  was  just  visible,  and,  as  on 
that  first  day  when  my  heart  was  so  heavy, 


226         A  TENDERFOOT  BRIDE 

I  felt  the  sense  of  confusion  give  way  to 
peace. 

From  the  vast  spaces,  under  the  guardian- 
ship  of  that  commanding  summit,  we  had 
gained  a  new  sense  of  proportion,  freedom 
from  hampering  trivialities  and  a  broader 
vision  of  life  and  its  responsibilities. 

Standing  there  in  the  moonlight  facing 
the  mountain,  I  saw  in  it  more  than  a 
symbol  and  source  of  strength;  to  me  it  had 
becomje  indeed  the  abiding  place  of  a  God. 

Looking  back  over  the  years,  all  the 
changes  revealed  only  the  evolution  of  a 
wondrous  plan.  We  had  launched  our  frail 
barque  in  the  midst  of  the  prairie  sea  at 
the  ebb  of  the  tide  of  the  wild,  lawless  days 
of  the  West;  with  the  flow  we  had  been 
carried  through  the  years  of  a  well-ordered 
pastoral  existence  to  the  era  of  agricultural 
productivity,  and  on  each  succeeding  wave 
we  had  seen  civilization  borne  higher  and 
higher  toward  the  ultimate  goal  set  by  the 
Great  Spirit. 

Ours    had    been,    indeed,    a    wonderful 
experience. 

THE  ENR 


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